


DESTROYA

by ZTX



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), DangerWho, Doctor Who, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 76,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZTX/pseuds/ZTX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third in a series. The Great Fires of California. The mysterious disappearance of Australia. The coming of Destroya. The innocence of a young boy is lost and the nerves of a man are tested as the Doctor sets out to find an answer to an age old question and is met with several more. Beware. The end is never what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. INTRO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revisions have been made~! This story now takes place after the end of Series 8 AND the events of Last Christmas. Enjoy~

 INTRO  
  
     _"Everything has a beginning. A starting place. A point of origin."_  
  
    The soft sound of chalk dragging along the board echoed coldly through the control room as he scratched words out of pure white dust onto a blanket of black. With a short clack of his boot on the metal grate, he stepped back, eying it carefully,  
"And with that beginning," he continued, miles-wide eyebrows knitted together in thought, "So, must also come an end."  
    He placed his hands behind his back, chalk still poised between his fingertips as he paced the console floor,  
"Take a bullet from a gun. Explosive at the start, it seeks a destination when the trigger is pulled. It has a path, a course...a destiny. And when it finds it," he smacked the tip of the chalk against the board and let it fall from his grasp, "It stops."  
    "But what of a circle? Unlike the line a bullet travels, it has no clear point of origin and no clear end. A circle is eternal," he said, taking up another piece of chalk in hand and drawing said circle on the board, "You can only tell where it starts when you draw it out for yourself and it ends at it's beginning. Like a clock..."  
    He began to write numbers in the circle, a storm brewing in his eyes,  
"Every hour on the hour, the clock strikes twelve. One hour ends and another begins. And so it goes, on and on and on into eternity. But did the last hour really end at all? Did a new one ever really begin?"  
Stepping over to the console, he flipped a few knobs, and the TARDIS hummed to life, sending him hurtling through the time vortex,  
"And then, there's the universe. One Big Bang and it comes alive. An explosive flash creates life across galaxies, and this new found life begins the long and winding journey toward the end of time itself."  
    "Question," he began pacing again, peering deeply into the monitor as the ship set sight on Earth,  
"What do we know about the start of the universe? Of her numerous complexities? Answer: There are many theories...and they all seem to point to that one Big Bang!"  
He tore across the floor, back to the chalk board and wiped it clean, beginning another doodle,  
"But what caused it? What force could be behind such an explosion,  could breathe fire into the ice cold emptiness of space? Who was the trigger man? Could it have even been a man? Perhaps it was a woman? Maybe a God? Perhaps there was no trigger man at all and perhaps the universe just popped into existence like a cork from a champagne bottle...?"  
    He straightened, swallowing hard as he gazed at what he had written. It was two words, two simple, ordinary words that when put together, sent a flush and a fluttering through his hearts,  
"Or maybe it was just a wolf...so lonely in the vastness of space with no moon to howl at....so it created it's own company?"  
A loud siren drew him from his ramblings and he turned, frowning as he approached the monitor. Pulling it toward him in a quick motion, he narrowed his eyes at what he saw and frowned,  
"No. No, stop that. That's annoying," he smacked it a few times, and stood back, waiting for the image to change. It didn't, "Why are you doing that!? What's wrong with you!?"  
    He frowned as he watched the screen intently, shaking his head as the map continued to glitch and fragment. Smacking the monitor again, his eyes widened as it came back up and he quickly dashed around the console. Flicking switches and pulling knobs, he guided her faster through the swirling vortex, soon coming to a halt. He then ran to the monitor. The map had not changed. Eyes wide, he turned and rushed to the doors, throwing them open. The wind struck him abruptly as he leaned out, turning his gaze to the vast, churning space of ocean below. He swallowed hard,  
"That's not possible..."  
  
    ~ø~  
  
    A strong wind chilled through her as it blew through the cemetery, freezing her bones, making her shiver. Kneeling down, Clara Oswald set the bouquet down at the foot of a headstone and sat back, tucking a section of unruly hair behind her ear,  
"Happy New Year."  
    She smiled to herself as she was met with the chirping of birds and with a sigh, she hugged her knees and shook her head,  
"Christmas was bonkers. Too much figgy pudding. Gave me nightmares. And indigestion...not a fan of indigestion. Or nightmares, for that matter."  
    A laugh escaped her. She almost felt silly doing this, talking to a slab of granite. It wasn't like he could hear her. He wasn't there. Not anymore, not like he could have been, like she should have been, when he still was. Instead, she had been telling lies, travelling with the Doctor when she'd told him she'd end it.  
     It was her fault it was over, because she couldn't give it up. No matter how hard she tried, she had always gone back to him. There was a thrill in the adventure like nothing she had ever felt before, an adrenaline in her veins, addicting, kept her coming back. And because of that, she had lost him. Because she couldn't give it up. She just couldn't say no.  
    Wiping her eyes of tears, she rose to her feet and rubbed her arms for warmth as she felt a shiver pass over her,  
"I'm sorry, Danny. I'm so sorry," she began, her voice cracking in shame, "You deserved better. Better than me, anyway."  
Turning away from the tombstone, she shoved her hands in her pockets and began the slow, lonely walk back to her apartment.  
    As she reached her door, she unlocked it and smiled, finding herself met with the adorably fluffy face of a ginger cat. She giggled as she stepped inside and closed her door, plucking it off the ground with a grin as she walked to the kitchen,  
"Hey, Lola! How's my baby?"  
The cat rubbed on her hands and face as she carried it to the kitchen, and setting it on the ground, she opened the refrigerator to grab a can of food.  
    She sighed as she pulled out the last can of food and turned to the feline, scowling slightly,  
"Looks like we're down to the _Purina_."  
The cat cried at her and she shook her head,  
"I know, I know, you're so picky. But the store was out of _Iams_! _Purina_ was the cheapest alternative, which is a shame, cause I'm more of a _Fancy Feast_ girl, myself."  
She paused briefly at the phrase and giggled, shaking her head as she opened it and scooped some out onto Lola's dish,  
"Huh....haven't thought about that in a long time."  
    With a sigh, she set the dish on the floor and patted the cat on the head,  
"Just be glad it's not dog food....and that I didn't cook it for you. Stuff's like death warmed over."  
Rising up, she went to the cabinet for a cup and put a kettle on for tea. It was true, she hadn't thought about those adventures for a long time, over a year to be exact. She'd almost forgotten all about it, running about the desert hunting down Cybermen and stopping Mr. Clever from taking over Battery City. She giggled. That had been the name hadn't it, Battery City? She couldn't quite remember.  
    Grabbing a tea bag, she took the now screaming kettle off the burner and poured some water into her cup. A smile struck her. The image of a young man with hair red as fire came to her mind and she leaned on the counter, fiddling with the bag in her cup.  
    Party Poison.  
Thinking about him was strange. It made her heart flutter and race in excitement, felt like the sun was hitting her face as it peeked through storm clouds for the first time in ages. And it ached, oh, did it ache, and she knew why. Because like everything else in her life, like everyone else in her life... he was gone.  
    Guilt set in as she fixed her tea and wandered out to the living room, Lola at her heels as she walked to the sofa and sat down. The little cat hopped up beside her, purring and cooing, and she smiled, rubbing it's chin with a sigh,  
"At least I've got you, ey?"  
Reaching over to the table, she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. An old movie was on, in black and white and she found herself smiling. She and Danny used to watch old movies with the TV on mute.  
    He wasn't here now, though, so she set the remote down and leaned back against the cushions to watch with full sound. It was just starting. Her heart stalled as the title screen rolled. It was a picture of a wreath, with the words 'Selznick International Presents: I'll Be Seeing You' with a chorus of voices seeing the old tune overtop a swelling orchestra. She swallowed hard.  
   _"It was nice to meet you, Party Poison."_  
A flutter of butterflies flitted about in her stomach as she remembered how gently he'd kissed her hand.  
_"Nice meeting you, too...Soufflé Girl."_  
Setting her cup down on the table beside her, she rose and headed to her bedroom. She stopped at the dresser and hesitantly pulled open the third drawer from the top. She pushed aside her neatly folded clothes to find a sullied, blue handkerchief tucked in a perfect square at the bottom of the drawer. Taking it out, she unfolded it carefully and let it lay flat in her hand.  
   _"That rain out there is more acid than water,"_ she remembered him saying as he'd wrapped it around her palm.  
_"Thank you,"_ she'd replied. The stunned look on his face after she'd said it was worth noting. Had he never been thanked before? Or had he even been seeing her at all?  
_"Bev, she...she was my wife. A school teacher. You kind of remind me of her. A little..."_  
    Biting her cheek, she shook her head. Of course he hadn't seen her, not really. Back then, she reminded everyone of someone else. The Doctor of an echo, Party Poison of his wife. The first person to ever truly see her for her had been Danny. And she'd been the only one he was looking at. Tears hit her eyes. What was she even doing? Reminiscing like this?  
She had papers to grade.  
    With a sigh, she rose to her feet and headed back out into the other room. She marched over to the bin and stepped on the pedal, opening the lid. Her hand clenched around the handkerchief. The best thing to do was let go of it, she knew that. She couldn't hold on to it forever. Before she could pitch it in, her phone began to buzz on the kitchen counter and she sighed. Marching over to it, she groaned as the picture of a praying mantis caught her eye and she shook her head, answering it shortly,  
"Doctor, not now. I'm busy--"  
**_"Australia is missing."_**  
    She straightened, holding tight to the handkerchief as she raised an eyebrow,  
"Well, that's a new one. Are you sure?"  
**_"Yes, I'm sure,"_ ** the Doctor's voice glitched, crackling and warbling through the receiver, _" **I got an alert from the TARDIS. Went to the coordinates. It's nothing but ocean as far as the eye can see--!"**_  
"Well, that is very nice and I'm sure you'll figure it out," she sighed, gazing at the cloth again.  
   **_"Don't you mean 'we'?"_**  
"No, I mean _you_ ," she sighed, heading over to her kitchen table, "I have papers to grade."  
**_"Oh, yes of course, because Timmy getting an 'A' on his History paper is more important than the possible, impending apocalypse that may or may not be fast approaching."_**  
"I teach English, Doctor, not History."  
   _**"Are you sure?"**_  
"Yes, Doctor," she sat down, opening her binder, "I'm sure! I teach English! I'm an English teacher!"  
_" **Well, perhaps you should consider a career switch?"**_  
"And why would I want to do that?"  
_" **Because by the time I figure out what bloody happened to Australia, the human race could very well BE history!"**_  
    Rolling her eyes, she leaned on the table and tapped her pen to the surface,  
"Okay, serious now. I have to work! Whatever it is going on with Australia you can figure it out by yourself. You're a big boy!"  
**_"But Clara--!"_**  
"Goodbye, Doctor," she said as she pulled the phone from her ear. Swiping her finger across the screen, she dropped the call and set her phone down a ways from her.  
    Picking up the first sheet, she smiled and began to read it over,  
"Okay, Timothy. What do you have for me?"  
A scowl struck her face as she read the title,  
" _The After Effects of World War II and it's Impact on History_?"  
Shaking her head, she put the paper aside and went on to the next one,  
"Wrong class, Timothy."  
    Her phone began buzzing again and snatching it up, she answered it with an exasperated sigh,  
"Doctor, I said not tonight--!"  
**_"Ooh, who is this Doctor? He sounds delightful."_**  
"O-oh! Kathy, hi! How are you," Clara blushed nervously, and shook her head, "Sorry, I thought you were...erm...my doctor."  
**_"Why, sweetie? Is something wrong?"_**  
"What? No, no, nothing's wrong! I just...never mind. What's up?"  
     ** _"Some of the girls and I are going to hit the new club that's opened in town. Thought maybe you'd wanna join?"_**  
Clara sighed deeply and shook her head,  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kath, but I can't. I've got papers to grade."  
**_"Well, so do we! C'mon, Oswald, live a little!"_**  
"Kath--"  
     ** _"We all know you've been having a hard time as of late since Danny passed. But you don't have to do it alone, you know! Come out with us tonight and give yourself a break! Have a good time! Just try it!"_**  
She tapped her pen to the desk and sighed. Setting it down, she grabbed the handkerchief and gazed at it a moment. A smile flitted across her lips,  
"Where?"  
  
    ~ø~  
  
    The club was small and smelled strongly of beer and piss. Clara scowled as she followed her friends onto the cramped dance floor, clinging tightly to her bag as they worked their way to the middle. She grimaced as several drunkards plowed into her, shouting over the booming bass to Kathy,  
"Are you sure we need to be dead centre!? I think the outer rim is fine!!"  
"Don't be such a sour puss, Oswald," Kathy called back, shooting her a wink, "The centre is where all the action is!"  
    "I really don't need the action," Clara replied, "In fact, I'd very much like to be not where the action is right now!"  
She gasped as someone stumbled into her and a wave of booze flooded her top as they dropped their cup square on her chest. Kathy didn't seem to notice. Rolling her eyes, Clara cut her way back through the crowd and over to the bar, calling to the barkeep,  
"Do you have a napkin?"  
    They nodded and handed her a rag as she sat down at the bar,  
"Thank you!"  
She quickly went to dabbing herself dry, groaning in aggravation as she glanced back out onto the dance floor. She was not in the mood for this, not for any of it. She'd turned down the Doctor because she wasn't in the mood for adventure, what made her think she would be in the mood for drunk people and dancing?  
    It beat being lonely, she surmised, but she wasn't technically alone. She had her cat. Straightening, she let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes,  
"Oh my God. I'm one of _those_ people."  
She slapped a hand to her head and groaned. The beat in the club slowly began shifting then and she smiled as a familiar tune pulsed over the airwaves. The enhanced voice of Dick Van Dyke began echoing across the crowd and she giggled softly, her mind drifting back to the desert.  
  
_"Chim Chim-i-ney, Chim Chim-i-ney, Chim Chim Cheree...when you're with a sweep you're in glad company..."_  
      
    She smiled as the sound of his voice singing softly into her ear drowned out the DJ's booming remix and bit her lip as nostalgia washed over her. She missed him. For better or worse, she missed that red-headed lunatic and his fast car and his  bad habits. She missed the excitement of speeding through the desert at 90mph, she missed the smell of the sand and the blistering hot rays of sun. She'd barely known him for a day, but somehow that didn't matter. He'd been like a drug, akin to the Doctor and the TARDIS. Something she could have easily become addicted to. Danger. That's what he was. He was danger and she didn't have the sense to stay away.  
    Her heart ached, again, as she remembered the security footage, showing his untimely end at the hands of that exterminator. It wasn't fair. The opportunity for one more adventure with him was extinguished before it ever ignited. She bowed her head. They would have been good mates, she thought. Not necessarily in a romantic way or a physical way even, just really good friends. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out the handkerchief and smiled. She wasn't even sure why she'd brought it with her.  
    "Just a reminder, I guess," she breathed, rubbing her thumb along the fabric.  
  
   _"Nowhere is there a more happier crew, than them wot sings Chim Chim Cheree, Chim Cher--"_  
  
    She jumped as the music cut off in a dramatic crash of static and whining and straightened in her seat. Seconds later, the bulbs of the strobes burst as a hot pink flash of light struck them and she rose from her stool, watching stunned as the patrons began fleeing. Hopping down, she ran into them, toward the centre of the action. Adventure seemed to be chasing her today. She supposed it was time to stop running. Pushing through the crowd, she heard a shout echo across the dance hall. The voice was familiar,  
"All right! Everybody off the dance floor!"  
    The crowd screamed as another shot was fired and the disco ball came crashing down, nearly striking Kathy by the looks of it.  
"So, where is she, huh? What'd you fuckers do to her?"  
Clara swallowed hard. Yep. That voice was familiar all right. As she reached the front of the crowd, her eyes widened as they fell upon the visage of a young man with fiery hair. He had his back turned to her, and she could just make out the pill emblem on the back of his jacket.  
    "You fuckers deaf," he continued, aiming his insanely bright, yellow gun at the patrons, "I said, 'where is she!?' Where is Clara Oswald!?"  
She froze as he turned fully around, their eyes meeting across the floor, and she swallowed hard. Kathy stepped up beside her, her voice a frantic whisper in her ear,  
"Clara? Who is that? Do you know him??"  
    "Oh, Doctor," Clara clenched her teeth, mumbling softly to herself as she noticed some of the patrons whipping out their cellphones, presumably to call the authorities.  
  
**_"What have you done?"_**  



	2. Hello Again

  
  
     ** _-California - October - 2019-_**  
  
    Walking amongst the crowd of sweaty, swaying youths, he slowly and steadily pushed his way through to the front, dark scowl on his face. He was looking for someone in particular, but that man was not to be found in this bunch. Clearing his throat and waving his arms, he tried to catch the lead musician's eye,  
"Excuse me," he shouted, his voice barely audible over the loud booms and thuds of the bass.  
"Excuse me!!"  
    Rolling his eyes again, he sighed and pulled out the screwdriver. With a flick of his wrist, the power to the speakers cut out and the music stopped, the patrons groaning in annoyance as the show came to a screeching halt. Hopping up onto the stage, he calmly took the microphone from the glitzy looking lead and turned to the crowd,  
"Right. Hello! Excuse me," he began scanning the crowd with his eagle-esque eyes, "Do any of you happen to know where I can find a man with red hair?"  
    The crowd began to look at each other, and various men of all assorted ages began to point out their varying degrees of rubine mop tops. The hawkish man shook his head, and rolling his eyes again, he began to shout,  
"No, no, I mean an older man! Not nearly as old as you lot, but quite up there in his age. He was a part of the Greatest Generation! Fought in WWII?"  
    They continued to stare in awkward silence and he let out an aggravated groan,  
"Nothing? Well, let's see, then, he's got a name, too! Sounds like an 80's hair metal band...! Some kind of...of..."  
He rubbed a hand to his head, thinking hard as his memory continued to elude him,  
"Venemous, social gathering...."  
The crowd continued to look bewildered as he took one of the band members guitars and began to play it, strumming angrily at the strings,  
"Got a prescription on the back of his coat. Not your garden variety aspirin..."  
    He began to strum out a tune, dancing a bit as he went. Very soon it turned into a familiar little ditty, and he realised he had run through the entire opening riff of Chuck Berry's ' _Johnny Be Good_ '.  
As he came to the end of it, a light clicked on and he turned to the crowd in excitement,  
" _Marty McFly_..."  
The crowd remained silent, instead looking to one another in concern.  
"Oh, c'mon," the silvery-headed man groaned, nearly dropping the guitar from his grasp, "Marty McFly! _Back to the Future_ , 1985? Christopher Lloyd and Michael--"  
    He paused then and a smile flitted across his face,  
"Oh...oh, yes, that's it! Michael...! Michael and a certain dosage...."  
He frowned, the bushy brows on his forehead furrowing together in thought.  
"Kilogram....Microgram....Mi...Milli...!"  
"Are you talking about Party Poison?"  
    He spun to look, stage left, and spotted a short-statured man with shoulder-length black hair. Tattoos covered his forearms and he wore a shirt bearing the word 'Demolition' in crackled, white print. The old man smiled, delighted to see him,  
"Ahh! _Casper_!"  
Returning the guitar to its player, he strode passed the dark-haired man with little more than a sigh.  
    "Uh, what?"  
"Well, that's you isn't it," he waved his hands in emphasis as he walked, "The friendly, fun-loving ghost?"  
"It's actually Fun Ghoul--"  
"Well, isn't that what I said," the man interjected, cutting Fun Ghoul off a second time, "So, where is he, then? Where's Michael at?"  
    "I'm sorry," Fun Ghoul quickened his pace, trailing just inches behind the strange old man, "Who are you?"  
"Oh, come now, _Casper_ , don't be like that," he said, pulling out what looked to Ghoul like a glowing swizzle stick, "It's me!"  
"Me...?"  
    The man turned to face him, brows furrowed angrily,  
"Yes! Me, hello! The Doctor!"  
Fun Ghoul continued to stare blankly at the man, completely confused,  
"Doctor, who?"  
The Doctor slapped his hands to his face, and groaned, shaking his head,  
"Suppose I walked right into that one."  
    Bringing up the glowing stick, he waved it in Fun Ghoul's face,  
"The Doctor! You remember! Angels! Cybermen!! Going to the IHOP!"  
Looking the man up and down, Fun Ghoul shook his head with a snort,  
"Yeah, I remember that. But you're not him! He had more of a..."  
He made a motion to his chin. The Doctor groaned and adjusted his collar,  
"Yes," he began, taking a deep breath, "Yes, I am. Now, where is Michael? I need to speak to him."  
    "Listen, buddy," the dark-haired man swallowed hard, reaching back and scratching his head,  
"I don't know what you want with Poison, but the Lounge is off limits--"  
"So, he's in the Lounge," the Doctor nodded, turning and heading on down the hall, "Right, thank you!"  
    Ghoul quickly hurried after him, letting out a squeak as he went,  
"What!? Whoa, no! Dude I said 'OFF LIMITS'! OFF!"  
"Oh, he won't mind," he stated simply, marching forward as he spotted the door bearing 'Lounge', "It's urgent."  
"Okay, I don't know who you think you are--"  
"I don't think I'm anything," he began, reaching for the door knob with a grin, "I know I'm the Doctor,"  
To his dismay, it was locked. He let out an aggravated growl and spun around,  
"Unfortunately, that's about all I know. Why is it locked?"  
"Well," he coughed, tucking some hair behind his ear, "Probably because they don't want you going in there?"  
    "Well, you see I have a thing about doors," the silvery-haired man sighed, pulling out the screwdriver again,  
"I like to have them open, so I can go through them."  
Swiping it across the lock, the Doctor smiled as it clicked open and turned the knob, throwing open the door. Ghoul let out a shout at that and started forward, slapping a hand to his forehead as the Doctor strutted on in to the darkened room,  
"Hey--!"  
    Taking a few steps inside, the Doctor frowned, squinting to try and see through the darkness,  
"Michael? Michael, are you in here?"  
He could hear loud breathing and the muffled sounds of groaning. Shaking his head, he searched for the light switch. Finding it on the wall beside the door, he flicked it on, letting out a yell as his eyes landed on Party Poison; half-naked and in a rather compromising position between two, shiny-skinned androids,  
"Agh, Michael!! For God's sake!!"  
    The red head jumped at the sound of his name, breaking a kiss with the one on top of him to see who it was that had uttered it. He gaped at the man in the doorway in shock, pulling out from between the two bots in a desperate scramble to grab his belt,  
"Who the fuck are you!?"  
"It's me, Michael," the Doctor covered his eyes, continuing to shout,"It's me!!"  
"You," Poison shook his head, quickly reaching for the gun holster lying on the floor beside the sofa,  
"You, who!?"  
    "Oh, there's no need for that, you already have my attention!!"  
The Doctor kept his eyes covered as the red head clambered to his feet, and coughed shortly,  
"Could you put your pants on please? I'm not exactly fond of the look he's giving me--"  
"Okay, _Sean Connery_ ," Poison snorted, seeming to push himself out a little further at the comment,  
"How the hell did you get in here and how many lasers is it gonna take to get you to fuck off?"  
    "More than you've got, _Casanova_ ,"he smirked, eying the two robots behind him,  
"And judging by your little dolls here, I'd say you're a tad unprepared to shoot anything that isn't coming from your screwdriver," he blushed as he continued, "Tell me, do you think Beverly would be keen on this sort of thing? Her husband giving _C3PO_ a little tune up--"  
The Doctor straightened as a laser whizzed right passed his ear then, and looked to the man; eyes wide,  
"Did you just try to shoot me?"  
"All right, old man," Poison slowly rose up from the couch, "I ain't fucking around with you..."  
"Well, no," the Doctor snorted, nodding to the two robots behind him, "That's clearly what these two are here for."  
    "How do you know about Bev," he hissed, his eyes dark and angry, "Start talkin' or the next one goes between the two caterpillars on your forehead."  
"There's no need for insults, Michael, it's me," he insisted, slapping his hands to his chest, "The Doctor! Now, would you kindly put some pants on we need to chat!"  
"The Doctor," he snorted, shaking his head with a smile,"Pssht, bullshit. Doc's got more of a...."  
He motioned to his chin.  
    "Yes, I know," the Doctor rolled his eyes at that,"Still not sure what happened with that one..."  
"Now, I'm serious, _Braveheart_ ," Poison spat again, strolling forward slowly, "Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?"  
"I just told you," he brought out the screwdriver again, waving it in air, "It's me! The Doctor! I saved you from the Weeping Angels? The Cybermen? Stopped you from disappearing off the face of the Earth, which, you're welcome for, by the way. Ring any bells?"  
"As a matter of fact," Poison thought a minute, then cocked his gun and took a few steps closer, "No. It doesn't."  
    "Oh, come on, Michael," the man groaned, exasperated, "You and I? We're old chums! We travelled through time and space! We had ice cream on the Walk of Fame! You told me about that time you and your girlfriend 'woohooed' behind the Hollywood sign--"  
"I tell a lot of people that story," Poison sneered, narrowing his eyes, "It's kind of a crowning achievement...right up there next to that soldier in the jacuzzi back in '43."  
    The Doctor stared at him blankly, an unamused expression on his face,  
"Oh, was I supposed to be impressed by all that? Oh, the great Michael Milligram and his multiple conquests! The _Christopher Columbus_ of the _Horizontal Mambo_! You know, you should meet my friend Jack, he'd knock you down a few pegs--"  
    "Listen, gramps. I ain't playin' no more,"Poison hissed, cocking the gun as he continued,  
"Now, I'm countin' to three..."  
The Doctor groaned and craned his head back to look at the ceiling,  
"Oh, don't make me do this. I'm really not for it these days..."  
"One..."  
"You're not going to put any pants on are you," he sighed, motioning to the man's naked legs,  
"Just gonna stand there like you're _King of the Rock_ \--"  
"Two..."  
"Fine, Michael," he let out a shout, clenching his fists at his sides, "You want me to prove it, I'll prove it!"  
    The red head tensed as the man charged forward and suddenly grabbed him by the face. He pulled him in for a kiss, their lips locking for a few seconds. As the Doctor pulled away, he noted the bewildered look on the younger man's face and huffed a deep sigh,  
"There. Satisfied?"  
Poison licked his lips thoughtfully, a grin striking him as he shook his head,  
"N-Nah, I don't think so. You're gonna have to do that, again."  
    "Get off," he tossed Poison away, turning and marching toward door,  
"Now, pants on. Meet me outside. We. Have. To. Chat."  
"What makes you think I'm just gonna drop everything and come with you," the fiery-haired man snorted, shaking his head,  
"One kiss, no matter how...fantastically spiritual, does not a believer in me make, and in case you hadn't noticed, I was kinda in the middle of something, pretty literally, I might add, and I'd like to get back to it--"  
    The Doctor spun on his heel as he reached the door, his satin-lined coat flapping as he twirled,  
"Clara Oswald."  
Party Poison straightened at that, his eyes going wide as he continued in a rather stern voice,  
"She's in trouble."  
  
    ~ø~  
  
   **_-Present-_**  
  
    Clara gaped at him in shock as he strode forward, gun still drawn and aimed at the crowd as he approached her,  
"Clara!"  
Her eyes were wide as he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight. Pulling back, he placed a hand on her cheek and gazed straight into her eyes. He looked concerned,  
"You okay?"  
"Y-Yes...? Yes, I'm fine--"  
    "Good, then let's get the fuck outta here," he glanced around suspiciously, taking her by the hand,  
"I don't like the looks of these guys--"  
He started to pull her toward the exit, to which she quickly pulled away; laughing nervously,  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What...what are you doing?"  
    The neon-haired man frowned, raising an eyebrow at her,  
"Whaddya mean? I'm saving you!"  
"Saving me....?"  
"Yeah," he swallowed hard, his hazel eyes sparkling as he glanced around at the confused crowd.  
She glanced around as well, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes,  
"From a nightclub? I mean, granted most everyone is drunk and this scene is kinda seedy, but...it's not worth shooting the place up over."  
    "A nightclub," he looked around, eyes wide as he spied the stunned clubgoers. He shook his head with a snort and lowered his voice,  
"You call this a club? Pathetic--"  
"Okay," she swallowed, shaking her head as she quickly ushered him toward the door, "Clearly, you are not seeing the gravity of the situation you just created--"  
"Well, the gravity don't mean too much to me, Girly. This is a sad atmosphere for a fucking club."  
    "And we are leaving, now," she said, walking faster, "Before the police arrive and throw you in jail. Or worse, you never know these days. You know what police are, right? You have those in your time?"  
Kathy called after her, stepping forward as she pulled out her phone,  
"Clara...? What are you--!?"  
"Sorry, Kath," she said turning around with an anxious laugh, "I'm really gonna have to take a rain check on this one. Night!"  
    Quickly shoving him out the door, they hurried across the car park to the blue police box stationed at the edge of the lot. Clara grit her teeth upon seeing this,  
"Did the Doctor bring you here," she seethed, her nostrils flaring, "Did he put you up to this?"  
"He said you were in trouble," Party Poison said, a queried tone in his voice. He almost sounded frightened, possibly, probably, of her.  
    Good, she mused. He should be.  
As they reached the box, she shoved open the door and marched inside, dragging the stunned Party Poison behind her.  
"Doctor," she called, her blood now boiling, "Doctor!"  
    The Doctor stood at the console, keeping his eyes on the monitor as she charged up to him,  
"Oh, good. He found you."  
"Did you tell Party Poison I was in trouble?"  
"I might have."  
    She clenched her fists, breathing deeply as she glared him down,  
"Why did you tell him I was in trouble!?"  
"Well, I went to your apartment," he said, waving his hand about madly in the air, "You weren't there and the place was trashed! What was I supposed to think!?"  
"What do you mean the place was trashed," she gasped, folding her arms, "Did somebody break in!? Aside from you, obviously!"  
    "There must have been," the Doctor continued, shaking his head as he motioned to Party Poison, "There were papers all over the place! I suspect vandals."  
"I was grading those papers," she snorted, shaking her head, "They're from my students."  
"Yes, I noticed," he began, pulling a paper from his coat pocket, "Give this one an 'F'. He clearly copy and pasted the article from Wikipedia."  
    Frowning, she snatched it from his hand and quickly read it over,  
" _The After Effects of World War II and it's Impact on History--_? This one is a mistake, it's not mine to grade."  
"But I thought you were a History teacher."  
"No," she shrieked, shaking her head with eyes wide, "I'm not a bloody History teacher! How many times do I have to tell you that!?"  
     "So, wait," Poison snapped, shaking his head as he slowly came up the ramp to the console, "She was never actually in  any real danger?"  
"Of course she was," the silvery-headed man shot up, eyes wide, "You saw all that paper work! She was in real danger of falling asleep and suffocating in that stack--"  
With a set jaw, Poison stormed toward the man, fists clenched at his sides as anger and relief washed over him,  
"Jesus...son of a fuckin' bitch! What the hell is wrong with you!?"  
    "Oh, please," the Doctor groaned, rolling his eyes at the younger man, "I'll take you back home in a minute, it'll be like you were never gone."  
"Unbelievable," the red head bit his lip, slamming his fists against the metal railing, "One of the most incredible nights of my fuckin' life and you come snatch me away from it on a false fuckin' pretense--"  
"I would hardly constitute shagging _a bucket of bolts_ to be considered all that monumental--"  
"Shut the fuck up, _McLeod_ , nobody asked you."  
    "Not to mention," Clara shouted, shoving passed Poison to get to the Doctor, "He shot up the place! Could have killed someone! Nearly did, too. Mirror ball damn near crushed my friend!"  
The Doctor looked up at that, eying Party Poison up and down as he rounded the console,  
"You shot down the mirror ball?"  
    Poison coughed shortly and wiped his nose with a shrug,  
"Maybe."  
To this, the Doctor nodded and gave him a pat on the shoulder,  
"Good. You've done them all a service. _Death before disco_ , I always say."  
Clara's mouth fell open at this and Party Poison snorted, trying to stifle his laughter as her face grew red with rage,  
"That's not funny."  
    He continued to snicker as she fumed, keeping his gaze on the ground,  
"It's a little funny."  
"Well, if you find it so funny," she folded her arms, her nostrils flaring as she glared him down, "I can throw you back outside and let the police deal with you. Bet the night in jail would be Christmas for you."  
"Oh, do you," he narrowed his eyes, "And why's that?"  
    "Oh, you know," she grinned, twirling a lock of hair on her finger, "I mean, you know what they do to guys like you in there. Bet you'd have a field day."  
"I have standards, Girly," Poison said, face aghast, "I don't just fuck anything that walks."  
"Oh, no of course not," she giggled, putting her hands up, "So, that bucket of bolts, then? Rumba or just a regular vacuum? I hear _Dysons_ have particularly good suction--"  
    "They were two very lovely bots, thank you very much," he began as she started walking away from him, chasing after her, "Got out of the city to start a better life! And I am proud of them."  
"So proud you, what? Just had to shag them?"  
"They're a very free range couple," he paused, hands on his hips, "And I don't see why it matters to you, anyway! S'not like you're my girlfriend or anything!"  
    "That's right," she snapped, spinning quickly to face him with an angry smile, "And it's a good thing, too! 'Cause I would have smothered you with a pillow in your sleep if I was!"  
The red head smirked at that, and leaned back against the railing,  
"Joke's on you, girly. We don't got pillows in the desert--"  
"All right, that's enough," the Doctor said, rubbing his eyes sorely. They didn't hear him.  
    "So, how many are you up to, now," Clara shrugged, folding her arms across her chest, "Or don't you keep a tally of that sort of thing..."  
"Are you judging me," Poison snorted, narrowing his eyes at her. She shook her head innocently,  
"Me? No. No, I'm not judging you. If I was judging you, you'd know I was judging you. I'd make a point to let you know, you were being judged--"  
"You sure," he snorted, shaking his head with a forced grin, "Cause it sure feels like judging."  
    "No, it's not judging," she shook her head, smiling back with wide eyes, "Whatever you wanna do with that menace between your legs is your business--"  
"Don't bring him into this," Poison snipped defencively as the Doctor attempted to step between them,  
"Ah--"  
    "And as a matter of fact, you know, what," Poison snorted, glaring her down with angry, hazel eyes as he got right in her face, "Fuck you, girly! Since when did you get so damn pretentious--"  
"Since I grew up," she puffed out her chest, holding her ground as he breathed his fire at her, "Became a teacher! It's called being a responsible adult--"  
"Really? 'Cause you sound more like a judgemental, old hag to me, but wait, I forgot 'you're not judging me'."  
    She growled in rage, her eyes going wide and her nostrils flared as she gave him a shove,  
"I don't even know why I thought I missed you!! You are the most disgusting, vile, arrogant--"  
"You missed me," he blinked, startled as he propped himself up on the railing, "Why? It's only been a week."  
Her heart dropped at his words and she straightened, falling silent. He noticed her sudden change in mood and raised an eyebrow, snorting softly,  
"What?"  
     Her eyes began to tear up, and hearing the Doctor cough, she cleared her throat and shook her head,  
"No, I...I said 'thought'. I thought I missed you, but turns out...I didn't. I didn't miss you at all. Quite frankly, I was better off not knowing you."  
Poison seemed to wince at her words and he snorted, shaking his head with a sigh,  
"Good...glad we got that out in the open."  
    He marched around the console, glaring the Doctor down as he headed up stairs,  
"Take me home. We're done here."  
Back turned from them, he leaned on the railing and surveyed the newly installed book shelves that lined the upper decks of the control room. Rounding the console, the Doctor shot her a dark look, but said nothing. She let out a deep sigh at that and bowed her head, wiping her eyes again as more tears threatened her eyes.  
The TARDIS began to whirr and hum around them and within minutes they had arrived at their destination.  
    "All right," the Doctor said, opening the door and gesturing, "Here we are. Home sweet home."  
Without a word, Poison hopped his way down the stairs and marched toward the door, refusing to look at Clara as he left. The petite woman bit her lip, following after him quickly with a sigh,  
"Party Poison!"  
    She hurried out after them, stopping a few feet behind him. Her eyes widened as she spotted the Hollywood sign high atop it's hill a few miles ahead of them. She frowned, shaking her head,  
"Doctor, no. You've got it wrong again, this isn't--"  
Her eyes widened as she turned to find the TARDIS had disappeared. She let out a deep, aggravated sigh,  
"Great."  
    Stepping up beside him, she shook her head,  
"Well, looks like we're stuck here till he comes back"  
Poison remained silent, continuing to gaze at the sign in the distance. Clara swung her arms awkwardly as she stood next to him, slapping her palm with her fist,  
"Just you and me. How wonderful."  
    "Yeah," he started forward, as if in a trance. Confused and concerned, she followed after him as he headed down the oddly vacant street. A cool breeze swept through and she glanced around, rubbing her arms,  
"Weird. You'd think LA would be busier than this..."  
"It was..."  
    She nodded as he walked over to one of the paper stands nearby, her eyes going wide as his words soon clicked in her head,  
"Whaddya mean 'was'?"  
He broke open the paper stand and reached inside, pulling out the one in front. Unfolding it, he swallowed hard; the emboldened headline giving him chills.  
    Clara stepped up behind him, reading it aloud over his shoulder,  
_**"Without a Trace: More than 20-million missing as Australia vanishes."**_  
She snorted and shook her head,  
"That's gotta be a joke, right? Some kid playin' a prank? It couldn't have just vanished."  
"That's what they said back then, too," he whispered, running his hand across the date at the top,  
_"December 21st, 20...."_  
    His eyes widened as his voice trailed off; heart sinking to his stomach. Quickly, he dropped the paper and turned tail, grabbing her arm as he started down the road,  
"We gotta go."  
She shook her head as he dragged her down the barren street, eyes wide,  
"Why? What's goin' on?"  
    A siren suddenly started sounding overhead and she stopped, glancing up toward the sky,  
"What's that...?"  
He froze at the sound, heart racing as they both turned to look at the Hollywood sign looming in the distance.  
"It's coming," he breathed, his eyes filled with fear.  
Clara frowned, shaking her head in concern,  
"What's comin'?"  
Turning his eyes to the starry sky, he swallowed hard and clenched his fists. The siren droned on...  
  
**_"Destroya."_**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fucking happy I finally found a place to fit the damn "Doctor, who?" joke in. I'm over the moon.


	3. Shut Up And Run

Clara shook her head and frowned,  
"Wh-What's comin'?

He nodded shortly, his whole body tensing up,

"Destroya."

"Destroya," she laughed nervously, eying him with concern, "Y-You mean, the thing that decimates Los Angeles in your time?"  
"That would be the one," he breathed, keeping his eyes on the sign.  
Clara swallowed hard, her lips in a line as she eyed it in fear,  
"Party Poison. We're _in_ Los Angeles."

He remained silent. She turned to look at him, nearly shrieking at his seemingly trance-like state,  
"Party Poison?!"

He continued to watch the sign in silence, ignoring Clara's urgent cries...

~ø~

"We can do custom detailing on any vehicle."  
The dark-haired boy nodded as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. Grabbing a nearby notepad, he scribbled the words ' _Look Alive Sunshine_ ' and cleared his throat,  
"In Helvetica. All right. Any special colour?"  
He frowned as he heard a faint noise coming from outside, and raised his head up quickly jotting down their phone number,

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're gonna have to speak up. I can't hear you. Ma'am...?"

He straightened as his ears were suddenly met with a shrill whine and a sudden click. The call had dropped. The noise outside quickly drew his attention again and he set the receiver down, calling into the back room,

"Dad? The phone's out! Dad!"

He received no reply. Shaking his head, he turned and started for the door. The noise was growing louder and longer as the seconds passed. It sent chills down his spine. He had to check it out. The bell chimed as he pushed it open, his eyes widening as he was met with the sound of an air raid siren. He shook his head and snorted,

"I didn't think they tested those anymore..."  
He jumped upon hearing a loud boom, and turned his gaze toward the sky. What looked like a gigantic fireball was falling straight for the Earth, specifically headed for the Hollywood Hills. His father ran up behind him, then, quickly grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside,

"Michael! Michael, get back inside, now!"  
"What is that!?"

His father hurriedly slammed the door shut and ushered him toward the back of the store,

"I don't know. Just get to the stock room-"  
"Is it a nuke!? Is it gonna hit us," the boy shrieked in a panic, "Are we gonna die!?"

"I said 'I don't know', Michael, just go!"

Glancing back, the boy watched in horror as the object collided with the mountain range; obliterating the sign in an instant. He could see a rippling wave headed toward them. Moments later, the ground beneath their feet began to shake and the power cut out. They reached the back as the front windows shattered; the impact blowing them off their feet...

~ø~

Clara gaped in shock as the ball of fire struck the mountain side. The ground shook beneath their feet and very soon, a mushroom-like cloud began to rise from behind the iconic words. She gasped, fearfully grabbing the man beside her by the arm and tugging at his sleeve,  
"Party Poison...!?"

The ground beneath their feet began to rumble as he gazed at the now burning sign in a daze. He wasn't responding to her cries at all; it was as if he were in a trance.

"PARTY POISON!"

She shrieked and yanked at his arm. He suddenly snapped back to the present. The fireball was spreading, sending rippling waves of flame and heat down the mountain toward them. She began dragging him down the road with her, the asphalt splitting and cracking beneath their feet. Neon store signs and windows shattered and fell as they passed. Whole structures collapsed around them.

Clara glanced back as they kept running, eyes wide in fright. They wouldn't outrun it. It was coming too fast. Poison pulled ahead of her then, squeezing her hand as he ran with all his might. Spotting a manhole on the ground, he skidded to a stop in front of it and glanced back at her,  
"Help me get this thing open!"

She nodded, panicked pants escaping her as she helped pry the cover off,  
"Why?! Are we going down there!?"

"You bet your sweet ass we are, girly."

"My wha-" she blushed and cleared her throat, "D-Do you think it will help!?"

He looked at her, then glanced back at the fireball steadily approaching and shrugged,

"Maybe."

Her eyes widened as he quickly shoved her down the hole, and she hurried down the ladder. He followed close behind, skipping the last few rungs on the bottom and shoving her further down the sewer line,

"Go, go, go, go!"

Feeling a rumble beneath their feet, Clara coughed as a cloud of dust fell from the ceiling on top of her and Party Poison quickly grabbed her, throwing himself over her as he dove to the ground,

"Down!"

She flinched as she hit the floor with a splash and closed her eyes. Heat filled the sewer line and she held her breath. After a few moments, she felt him move and they both glanced toward the open manhole. A pillar of fire had poured into the tunnel, but had stopped just a few short feet from them, leaving burn marks on the walls and floor in it's wake, as well as a stench of burning manure.

He turned to her, slightly out of breath as he reached for her face,

"You okay?"

She gaped blankly at the burn marks, then turned her gaze back to him as she felt his thumb stroke her cheek. They stared at each other for a moment, until finally, she cleared her throat,

"Party Poison...?"

"Yeah?"

She swallowed hard, her body tensing under his touch. Sitting rigidly, she gingerly touched her a hand to her now soiled clothes and squeaked softly,

"Am I...covered in poo?"

"Among other things," he shrugged, brushing a few strands of wet hair from her face.

She whimpered at that and slowly pushed his hand away, her movements completely stiff,

"Off."

~ø~

The sirens had stopped. He awoke with a groan and looked around.  
There was dust everywhere. Dust and flames. Frowning, he sat up and pushed away the hefty ceiling tile weighing down his legs. With a cough, he rose to his feet, feeling his calves twinge in pain,

"Dad?"  
He took a few steps and fell down, disoriented.

Shaking it off, he stood back up after a few moments, finding the older man a few feet away,

"Dad!"

Rushing over, he knelt down and pulled the debris away from him,  
"Dad! Dad, wake up!"

He frowned. The man's eyes were already open.

Straightening, he quickly placed two fingers to the man's neck, and shook his head,

"D-Dad?"

There was no pulse.

With a choked cry, he shook him slightly, tears beginning to run down his cheeks,

"C'mon, Dad..."

He did not reply.

Sitting back on his heels, the boy held himself tight and burst into tears, rocking back and forth.

His father was dead. He had been alive moments ago, but now he was dead. The boy had no idea why or what happened. What caused that explosion...was it a meteor? It certainly hadn't been a nuke or he wouldn't even have the molecules left to cry. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. People outside were screaming. He could hear them. He clamped his hands over his ears. He didn't want to hear it anymore.  
He just wanted silence.

~ø~

Clara frowned as she checked her phone, shaking her head with a sigh. It was no longer working,

"Great," she began, shoving it back into her pocket with a groan, "Waterlogged-"

"Don't you mean _shit-logged_ ," Poison snickered.

She spun on her heel, a look of rage in her eye as she pointed a finger at him,

"Shut it."

She then turned back and shivered, gingerly rubbing her arms,

"I can't believe this. Stuck with you, _again_. And covered in poo this time, just brilliant..."

She shivered again and rubbed her arms more vigorously. Her body stiffened as she felt something cold and wet hit her back moments later and she looked back to see Poison, draping his jacket over her shoulders,

"What...the hell...are you doing?"

"You looked cold," he began, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Wouldn't want you to catch... _hy-poo-thermia_."

Clara glared him down as he began to snicker and though she smiled, her eyes said murder,

"When we get out of this...and we _are_ getting out of this...I'm gonna kill you. And I'm really gonna enjoy killing you."

He laughed as she promptly tossed his jacket onto the wet ground and marched away from him,

"Aww. Coming from _Polly Pocket_ , that's really cute."

A shrill growl escaped her as she clenched her fists and stormed on down the tunnel. She could still hear him laughing behind her. Pulling her phone back up, she mashed at the keypad, her teeth grinding as she dialled the Doctor's number. The call dropped again and she let out a groan and she slumped to the wall,

"C'mon, Doctor! Where are you?"

"Yeah, speaking of," Poison cleared his throat, letting out a nervous laugh, "Where is Doc? I mean..."

She frowned, glancing back as he began to stutter,

"Y-You know," he motioned to his chin, "Doc? What happened to him?"

"Whatchya mean," she frowned, shaking her head, "That _was_ him."

"That old guy," the red head snickered, shaking his head, "No way. That wasn't..."

She stared at him blankly. He blinked in surprise,

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," she nodded as he approached, "That was the Doctor."

Party Poison gaped at her with wide eyes, his mouth hung open in shock. A squeak escaped him and he shook his head, beginning to stammer,

"H-H-How!? Does he got a plastic surgeon stashed somewhere in that phone booth of his? Should I start calling him Joan Rivers-"

She rolled her eyes at that and shook her head with a sigh,

"The Doctor...isn't exactly what you'd call human..."

Poison silenced a minute and narrowed his eyes,

"Not following you."

With a groan, she rubbed her eyes and let out another sigh,

"He's...an alien."

The fiery-haired man blinked at that, then shook his head again,

"So, are you, right? You're both from the UK-"

"That's not _quite_ what I mean," she began, wringing her hands together, "I mean..."

She pointed upward. He frowned and mirrored her motion. She nodded. His eyes widened,

"You mean a space alien? An alien from outer space?"  
Clara nodded shortly. Leaning back against the wall, he shook his head, and rubbed a hand to his forehead,

"Holy shit...!"

"What's the big deal," she giggled, folding her arms, "You've known him for how long? Surely it came up once or twice...?"  
"Nope," he said, eyes wide as saucers.

"So, all that time you flew around in a _giant blue box_ , through time AND _space_ ,and you never once thought to question if he was an alien or not?"

He shrugged and looked over at her, shaking his head,

"I was hesitant to ask."

He slid down the wall, taking a seat on the floor as he covered his mouth. Clara crouched down beside him, giggling again at how pale his face had become,

"You gonna be okay?"

"Ask me in a few minutes..."

He gazed at the floor for a moment, breathing deeply in and out through his nose. The petite woman continued to smile at this, watching many a concerned expression flash across his face,

"Party Poison?"

"Do you think he probed me?"

"Sorry?"

"Doc," Poison squeaked, turning to her with wide eyes, "Do you think he probed me? Does he do that? Does he probe people?"

Clara frowned at that and shook her head,

"I-I dunno. He's never probed me...that I know of. And besides, would _you_ really mind if he did?"

The red head silenced for a moment. He then shrugged,

"Woulda been nice if he bought me dinner first...maybe some dancing. Always good to set the mood before you make the move."

With a laugh, Clara slapped him on the arm and shook her head,

"I highly doubt the Doctor probed you."

"Well, now I'm just _disappointed_."

She giggled at that and slapped his arm again.

They both silenced for a moment as another rumble sounded and more dust fell from the ceiling. Clara's eyes widened as the distant sound of screams filled her ears and she scooted closer to Poison, her voice but a whisper,

"What the hell is happening up there?"

"The city's burning to the ground...if I had to wager a guess," he breathed. She turned to him, eyes wide. She could hear a twinge in his voice. Fear? The look on his face confirmed this suspicion. Another rumble and she could feel him start to shake. She squeezed his arm and offered a smile,

"Are you okay?"

His voice grew softer, more shaken as he pressed himself to the wall,

"I thought this was behind me...I thought I was safe..."

Clara straightened at that, seeing how white his knuckles had become. He turned to her, his hazel eyes seeming to glisten as he snarled,

"When Doc comes back, remind me to kick his ass all the way back to Mars...or wherever the hell it is he came from."

He stood abruptly and stormed away. She bowed her head as she heard him swear, dropping her gaze to the floor.

~ø~

The boy staggered down the burning street, people rushing passed him in blurs of colour. His head was swimming. He was still disoriented from the blast. He stumbled to a nearby alley, feeling his leg vibrate. For a moment, he was confused. He then quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It was his mother. Swallowing hard, he quickly answered it, his voice shaking and unsteady,

"M-Mom?"

_"Oh, Michael! Sweetheart! Thank God! Are you okay?"_

"N-No...not really."

_"Honey, where's your Dad? I tried his phone, but he wasn't picking up."_

The boy whimpered, glancing down the smokey back street in fear,

"D-Dead," he slid to the ground, tucking his knees in close, "Dad's dead..."

_"Oh, God...! Oh, baby, where are you, now? Are you still at the store?"_

"No...I-I left the store. I think I'm a few blocks away...in an alley or something," the boy whispered, biting back tears as he swallowed the lump in his throat, "Can you come get me? Please, I'm scared..."

_"Of course, baby! Of course, I'm gonna come get you! Just stay where you are, okay? Your grandpa and I will be there as soon as we can."_

"O-Okay..."

_"I love you, sweetie. I will be there soon, I promise."_

He nodded, a tear gliding down his cheek as he looked around. The smoke was getting thicker and he could see a red glow at the other end of the alley,

"Love you too, Mom."

The boy hugged his phone as they hung up, burying his face in his arms as the sounds of people's horrified screams grew louder.

~ø~

_**Somewhere in the time vortex...** _

The Doctor sighed as he circled the console, coat flapping at his thighs as he circled the console. A loud ding soon pervaded through the air and he jogged to the monitor, a smile striking his face,

"Ah, yes. There you are."

Hurrying to the doors, he opened them wide, eyebrows peaking at the sight beyond,

"Oh! Now, _that's_ a new one..."

~ø~

_**California...** _

Party Poison grunted as he pushed up on the manhole cover, carefully glancing around before climbing up onto the street. Sure enough, the buildings were on fire and residents were fleeing in terror. Cars were crashed on roadsides and bodies littered the sidewalks. In a city that had momentarily looked abandoned just hours before, there were now more people flooding the streets then he could swing a cat at.

Quickly, he turned and reached down the manhole,

"C'mon, girly. We gotta move it!"

She reached for him, her eyes widening as he was suddenly struck by a surge of people,

"Party Poison!"

He gasped as his fingers slipped from hers and the crowd swept him off his feet,

"Clara!"

Finding himself now gazing at the smoky sky, he quickly covered his face as the boots of a thousand strangers threatened to trample him. Once they had gone, he relaxed a bit, his heart still pounding as he rolled onto his side. He froze. Lying beside him was a young soldier, eyes rolled back, bullet planted between them. He gazed at the body, unable to move and scarce able to breathe. It was not possible for that soldier to be there. That soldier had died more than 70 years ago.

He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry,

" _Ben_...?"

The dead soldier blinked then, as if to confirm his identity, and glared right at him, saying nothing.

_"Party Poison!"_

He continued to gape at soldier, eventually being drawn back by a violently shaking. Clara was seated over him now, hands on his arm as she shouted his name,

"Party Poison!? Hey!"

She sat back as he looked to her, noting his pale features and quickened breath,

"Are you okay?"

Without a word, he rose to his feet, his voice soft and unsteady,

"Y-Yeah...yeah, I'm fine."

He wiped his mouth and turned away, marching on down the street toward the amber glow a few blocks away.

Rising up, she quickly jogged after him, and took his hand,

"Where are we going, now?"

"The desert."

"Why, the desert?"

"Cause," he said, glancing around nervously. The whole city had to be ablaze by now,

"It's the only place that ain't burning."

They came to a halt as a white van drove out from a side street, a smiling face plastered on it's side. His eyes widened as it blocked the road and out stepped four men in white dracula masks. Clara straightened as a woman stepped out form behind them. She wore a grey suit and sported a short, black bob. She smiled to them. Feeling Poison squeeze her hand, she looked to him, frowning,

"Party Poison? Do you know her?"

The woman motioned to the Draculoids, who each held cannons in their grasp, and he swallowed hard, quickly back stepping,

"We gotta go."

They both turned and started running, soon hearing popping sounds behind them. A different colour smoke began filling the street. A vivid green, it smelled of sulphur and Clara gasped as it met her nose,

"Ugh! What is that!?"

She could hear him coughing beside her, but could no longer see him through the smoke; it was too thick.

Covering her mouth, she tried her best not to breath it in herself,

"Party Poison?"

She turned to look at him, and let out a scream. Party Poison had disappeared somehow and now she was holding hands with a what looked to be a shoppe mannequin. The mannequin, though wearing Poison's clothes, bore an 'X' over the smooth, faceless plastic of it's head. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand away, breaking into a run. She ran as fast as she could. Running out of steam a ways up the road, she staggered down the smoke filled street, soon stumbling over the curb and onto the sidewalk. Falling to her knees, she could hear people screaming all around her. She couldn't tell what was happening. Feeling a strange, grainy feeling on her legs, she glanced down and gasped.

Her hands...they were dissolving.

Eyes wide and heart racing, she let out a terrified scream.


	4. The Land Down Under

   _"Clara!"_  
      
    Poison's heart raced as he ran through the fog after her, surroundings beginning to shift as he went. No longer was he running through the burning streets of L.A; no, now he was running across the blood soaked sands of Normandy. The sounds of booming echoed all around him as he tore through the smoky landscape. He could scarcely see what lay five feet ahead of him. The screams of his fellow soldiers rang out as the gunfire began again and he ducked behind something. He clamped his hands to his head and glanced around. The fog was too dense. He was completely lost.  
    In his heart, he knew there was no way that the things he was hearing could be real. But to tell his mind that? Now, that would be a challenge.  
_"Mikey-boy!"_  
His eyes widened as he raised his gaze. A figure cut through the fog and knelt at his side. Another soldier a few years his senior knelt down at his side. His heart leapt. He recognised those baby blues.  
    The soldier quickly whipped out a mask, and forced it over his head,  
_"Here!"_  
Party Poison gasped as he felt the clean oxygen hit his lungs and looked to the soldier in disbelief. He was still there? He wasn't an illusion? How could this be? He'd died years ago in the war.  
_"Go find your friend,"_ the soldier shouted, helping him to his feet, _"I'll head  for back up!"_  
    The red head's heart began to race as the soldier jogged away, reaching for him as he went,  
"W-Wait!"  
As his mind settled and the hallucinations faded, he shook his head. He couldn't worry about it, right now. Figuring out whether or not the soldier had been real would just have to wait. First, he needed to find Clara.  
Turning slowly, he staggered aways down the road, coming to a halt next to a totalled taxi cab. His head was pounding. He felt sick to his stomach. This was not unlike a really bad hangover, he mused.  
    Rounding the corner to the next block, he spotted her up the way, huddled by chain link fence. She was whimpering and sobbing as she clung to the grass. Kneeling down, he gently placed a hand on her back,  
"Clara? Clara, it's me..."  
Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and upon seeing him, she instantly began screaming and kicking away, punching at him like a maniac,  
"NO! NO, STAY AWAY FROM ME! STAY AWAY!!"  
    Quickly, he took off his mask and pushed her back against the fence, forcing it onto her,  
"Just calm down, okay!? Calm down!!"  
As she breathed in the clean air, he eyes widened and she frowned at him,  
"Party Poison?"  
He offered her a smile.  
    Seconds afterward, he dove on top of her and covered her head. She gazed up at him, confused as he pulled back and called down the street,  
"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"  
He rose to his feet and pulled out his gun, holding similar to the way one would hold a rifle. She reached for him as he ran off down the road, starting after him,  
"No, stop! Wait a minute!"  
    Her eyes widened as the distinct 'whooshing' of the TARDIS hit her ears and she smiled, relieved as it materialised with doors open wide right in front of him. She chased him inside, both of them stopping on the entry ramp as they were met by a strange man with dark hair and blue eyes. The doors shut behind her and she jumped, glancing back briefly before addressing the stranger,  
"You're not the Doctor."  
    "And neither are you," the man grinned, leaning back against the console, "But it's awfully nice to meet you."  
Pushing away from, he trotted toward her, hand extended,  
"How do you do? Name's Captain Jack--"  
"--Harkness," Poison finished with a breath, eyes wide as he stared in disbelief.  
    The man straightened and gazed at Poison curiously,  
"Erm...I'm sorry? Have we met?"  
"NO."  
Jack turned at the sound of a booming voice and grinned, arms out to either side,  
"What? I was just saying--"  
    He froze at the sight of the man who stepped out from the shadows, eyes going wide,  
"--what the hell...?"  
"Well, stop it," the Doctor grumbled, heading to the console, "Clara is off limits. Under my protection. The other one you can have, though."  
"Doctor," Jack began, gaping at him in shock as he came closer, "Why do you look like that?"  
"I regenerated. But never mind that. Michael, this is Jack. He's the one I've been telling you about."  
    "Yeah, I know who he is," Poison breathed as Jack turned to look at him again. A smile flitted across the man's face and laughing, he reached up and patted Party Poison on the cheek,  
"Well, I'll be damned...if it isn't Old Mikey-boy! Never thought I'd see you again! How long has it been?"  
    With a smirk, Poison reared back and socked Jack in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Clara let out a startled shriek as he then climbed on top of the downed man and began strangling him. The Doctor laughed,  
"Well, Jack," he began, hardly attempting to stifle his chortles, "You certainly do make quite the impression."  
    Quickly jumping in to intervene, Clara pried Party Poison's hands away from Jack's neck and pulled him back, stepping between them,  
"Stop it, now! Stop it! What's gotten into you!?"  
"Jack, once or twice," the Doctor coughed, rubbing his nose, "If I had to wager a guess."  
    She shot the Doctor a glare and shook her head,  
"Not helping."  
"H-he died," Poison breathed, strands of vibrant hair falling into his eyes, "March 5, 1944. You were shot down over France. I saw the paper work. You died."  
Jack coughed as he sat up, rubbing his throat gingerly,  
"Yeah. I do that."  
    Clara frowned at this and shook her head, eyebrow raised,  
"What'chya mean 'you do that'? People don't just come back to life..."  
"Well, I'm not people," Jack said, cracking his neck with a sigh, "You ever seen the 'Highlander' movies? Christopher Lambert, Sean Connery?"  
"No," Clara said, followed shortly by a 'Yes' from Party Poison.  
    "Well, it's kind of like that," Jack sighed, leaning on the rail. Party Poison smirked at that,  
"So, if I cut off our head, do I get your powers?"  
"Do you really want them?"  
"No," Poison snarled, raising his gun to the man's head, "I just wanna see your head come off. Let's try it, shall we--"  
    "Okay, enough," the Doctor shouted, pulling Jack away from the fiery-haired man, "Clara, take Michael down below. Get yourselves cleaned up. You, Playboy, with me. I need to pick your brain about something."  
"Just my brain, Doctor," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, "Surely there's something else you wouldn't mind picking."  
"You see what I mean," he called to Party Poison, pointing at Jack in annoyance, "Run for your money."  
    He then slapped Jack upside the head and rounded the console away from him. With a roll of his eyes, Party Poison started down the staircase, Clara at his heels.  
      
    ~ø~  
  
    "So, what is it between you and him," Clara asked as they headed down the dimly lit hallway, "Were you friends or something?"  
"Or something," Poison said shortly, fists clenched at his sides.  
"Oh, like, pen pals, then?"  
"I fucked him in a jacuzzi, so yeah, we're like pen pals."  
    Clara's eyes widened at that and she coughed, startled by his bluntness,  
"O-Oh! Okay. Yeah, that is something."  
"We kept in touch for a little while after that. Until he got shot out of the sky, anyway. Hurt like hell, but why would I expect any different at this point, you know? I'm used to hurt. Have been since the Fires."  
    There was a pause between them, long and silent and thoughtful. Clara frowned as she looked at him. He looked so distraught, moreso than she ever remembered seeing him, even when he was dying.  
"I'm sorry," she finally sighed, rubbing her arm with cringe, "Must be hard...seein' him again."  
"You have no idea," he walked on ahead by himself, turning the corner without another word.  
  
    ~ø~  
  
    "So, Jack," the Doctor began, flipping a few knobs as he keenly watched the monitors for activity, "What brings you to the end of this WiFi-ridden world?"  
"I was tracking a signal from the Wildlands. A ship of some sort. It was travelling faster than anything I've ever seen."  
    "How long have you been tracking it?"  
"Oh, a million or so odd years," he replied with a shrug, "I lost track after the first 2,000. Anyway, it was like nothing I've ever seen before, Doctor."  
"And that ship is the one that just crashed into Hollywood, is it," the Doctor said, raising his hawkish eyebrows curiously, "I'll bet you and your 'colleagues' at Torchwood will be eager to begin the investigation."  
    "No, actually," Jack snorted, scratching his head, "It's...it's just me this time."  
"Just you? What do you mean? I left you in the care of that charming young lad at the bar, what was his name?"  
"Alonso. And it...uh....it didn't work out. Thanks for the thought, though."  
"Well, then what about the rest of your team? What happened with them?"  
    Jack stared at him, his voice barely a breath as his heart began racing,  
"You mean you really don't know...?"  
"Know," the Doctor frowned, shaking his head, "Know what?"  
Stepping around to his other side, Jack took a deep breath and leaned against the console,  
"Does the name 'John Frobisher' mean anything to you?"  
    The silvery-haired man stared at him briefly and narrowed his eyes,  
"No. Should it?"  
"God, I hope not," Jack quickly quipped.  
"Now, I have something to show you," the Doctor interjected, tossing the monitor toward Jack,  
"What do you see?"  
    Jack shook his head as he gazed at the screen. It was a stormy looking sea.  
"The ocean?"  
"Wrong," the Doctor snatched it back, gripping the handles as his brows furrowed together,  
"That's Australia."  
  
    ~ø~  
  
    "So, what was that stuff," Clara called into the next room as she dried her hair vigorously with a towel, "That fog cloud?"  
"Fear Gas," Poison called back, "They use a more concentrated form nowadays inside of Drac masks."  
"Why," she shivered, pulling on a sweater as she finished dressing.  
"To control people. Plain and simple. If they got you by the balls, you're easier to manipulate. That cloud was the basic form. They used it to wrangle in the masses like sheep when the fires broke out. It brings your greatest fears to life before your eyes...then they pushed drugs on 'em, promised to make the fear go away. They've been playing puppet master since day one."  
    "That's awful."  
He rounded the corner in a pair of boxers and a tank top, towel draped over his head as he leaned against the wall,  
"Yeah, tell me about it."  
Bowing her head with a blush, Clara tucked a few strands of wet hair behind her ears and sighed,  
"And you had to go through it twice? I can't even imagine..."  
    "If I were you, girly, I wouldn't try," he said, shortly, brushing passed her as he headed back out to the console room. She hung her head as he went, waiting behind a few moments in the silence. This must have been a nightmare for him.  
"Clara, a word please."  
She jumped upon hearing the Doctor's voice echo throughout the room and holding tight to her towel, hurried out to the console room.  
     Party Poison was standing as far from Jack as humanly possible, a deadly look on his face. Hurrying to the Doctor, she shook her head and frowned,  
"Yeah, what?"  
The Doctor frowned, shaking his head,  
"What?"  
"You just called me," she said, scowling at him, "What is it?"  
    "I didn't call you," the hawkish-browed man said, shaking his head, "But I do have something to show you. All four of you."  
Poison perked up at that and glanced around, as did Clara. There were only 3 of them. They both looked to Jack, who simply shurgged and shook his head as the Doctor headed passed him toward the doors.  
"Come here," he said, waving them over.  
    Opening them wide, the Doctor motioned to the planet below,  
"Say hello to the Earth, approximately 66 million years before your time."  
Clara smiled at that and folded her arms,  
"Dinosaurs? Are we lookin' at dinosaurs?"  
    The Doctor nodded. A brilliant light soon flooded their vision and he took a deep breath,  
"Not for long."  
It collided with the planet in a fiery explosion that rippled across the northern hemisphere and Poison snorted,  
"So, it really was a meteor that wiped 'em all out."  
    "No."  
The Doctor turned on his heel and marched back to the console, leaving the three to gaze at the burning planet in confusion. He grabbed the monitor and pulled it around for them to see, clearing his throat as he pointed to the news article on it's screen. Clara recognised it; it was the one from the L.A newstand.  
The Doctor shot them a satisfied smirk,  
"It was Australia."  
  



	5. Just Another Day In Paradise

"You're jokin'!!"  
Clara shrieked, gripping the doorway as she watched the world begin to burn,  
"You mean all of those people--!?"  
"What, no," the Doctor said quickly, shaking his head as he stepped up behind them, "No, no, no, the people are all gone. I had the TARDIS do a quick scan. That's the continent only, and just a fragment of it, actually. The rest likely broke apart in the shuffle through the time vortex. There's no one on it. Not even a stray koala or a problematic prime minister. Shame about _that one_ really."  
    "Where'd they all go, then," Poison snorted, shaking his head, "They didn't just vanish out of thin air?"  
The Doctor shrugged,  
"I don't know. I'm sure they're fine, wherever they've gone."  
He leaned forward between them and shut the doors, then headed back over to the console.   
Clara shook her head as she followed after him,  
"Shall we go look for them, then? All those missing people--"  
    "No. We _shan't_."  
Her eyes widened as the Doctor pulled a lever and feeling the TARDIS jerk under her feet, she grabbed onto the railing and shook her head,  
"Why!?"  
"Because," he began, keeping his eyes on the monitor, "Whatever happened to them, wherever they've gone. It's a fixed point in time. It cannot be changed or altered in any way."  
    " _Typical,_ " Poison sneered, rolling his eyes.  
The Doctor straightened at that and turned to him with a raised brow,  
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"  
The fiery-haired man snickered, narrowing his eyes as he scratched his hair with a grin,  
"Is this what you do? Is this really," he shook his head, trailing off as he made his way around to the opposite side of the console.  
    "Is _'what'_ what I do, Michael," the Doctor began, matching the annoyed tone in Poison's voice. Clara quickly stepped over to him and touching his arm, whispered to him in hushed tones  
"Doctor, don't--"  
"No, girly," Poison quipped, hands on his hips as he strolled forward, "He wants me to tell him, I'll tell him."  
    Stepping right up in the Doctor's face, the red head narrowed his eyes and snarled,  
"You're a fucking life ruiner, Doc. You pick people up and when shit goes down, you put your fingers in your ears and you stop listening. Call it a _'fixed point'_! Truth is there's no such thing, is there? There's only the people you want to screw over and the poor saps that you're too goddamn lazy to help--"  
    "All right," Jack began, grabbing Poison by the shoulder and pulling him away, "That's enough, Mikey-boy--"  
"NO," he shouted, shoving the blue-eyed soldier away from him, "Don't. Don't you ever call me 'Mikey-boy', again, you hear me?"  
He backed away from them, shaking his head furiously as he turned and headed into the hallway,  
"Do none of you see how fucked up this all is? Millions of people just vanish outta thin air, and you, Doctor, yeah, you're sure high and fuckin' mighty aren't you," he motioned to the Doctor, spitting angrily, "You say you're not gonna do a damn thing about it 'cause it's a 'fixed point', like you even know what those are. Like you're some kinda god among men, well, you know what I think? I think you just don't give a shit. You don't give a shit about those people, like you didn't give a shit about me...and I'm done with you."  
    Turning away, he disappeared into the hall and Clara shook her head, glancing up at the Doctor briefly,  
"I'll go talk to him--"  
"No, Clara," the Doctor said, stopping her in her tracks, "Let him go. He needs to cool off."  
She shook her head, ignoring his words as she turned on her heel and headed off after him.   
  
    ~ø~  
  
    Clara wandered the many halls of the TARDIS for what seemed like hours, seeking even the slightest glimpse of Poison's engine red hair. It very well could have been, she noted, remembering how many rooms the TARDIS could hold and store in her memory. She succeeded finally, tracking him down sitting at the pool. It was in the library this time, she noted, glancing up at all the books around them as she took a seat beside him.  
    "Can you believe he has a pool in here," she smiled, kicking at the water with her feet, "Last time I was here, it was a basketball court. Suppose the TARDIS is just as fickle as he is?"  
She laughed. Poison said nothing. He kept his head bowed, gazing at the water in silence.  
    With a deep sigh, she glanced out at the water and folded her hands on her lap,  
"I lost someone. Someone I cared about very much. And when I did, I damn near lost my mind, because, I thought that the Doctor would never help me try to get him back. I was sure he'd call it a 'fixed point' and shrug it off with a 'better luck  next time, Clara'."  
"What'd you do," Poison grumbled softly, still gazing at the water.  
    "I threw all of the TARDIS keys in a volcano."  
Poison snorted at that and let out a whistle as he turned to her, smirking,  
"Are you serious?"  
She blushed and giggled, nodding shortly,  
"I did! Well, I would have. He put me in a dream state. Let the scenario play out."  
    He cringed and swallowed hard, forcing a laugh,  
"So, how'd that work out for you?"  
"I'd do it again, if I had to," she turned to him, "And he knew it. But do you know what he did?"  
The red head raised an eyebrow.   
"He decided to help me, anyway," Clara smiled, shaking her head, "And he absolutely didn't have to. He doesn't have to help anyone. But he does. That's the kind of man the Doctor is. He cares. Even if it seems like he doesn't sometimes. Sound like anyone you know?"  
    He smirked at that,   
"How can you be so sure?"  
"Well, if he didn't," she began, "He would never have checked to make sure there was no life on Australia when it hit the Earth. And also," she rose to her feet, shaking the after off them as she started back out into the hall,  
"I wouldn't have stayed."  
    He glanced back as she reached the doorway, calling after her,  
"So, what was he like? This guy you lost."  
Clara paused at that, and smiled,   
"Perfect. He was absolutely perfect."  
Leaning on the doorway, she waved to him, bowing her head,  
"Well, goodnight."  
    "Yeah," he said, his gaze faltering as he forced a grin, "Night."  
He turned his gaze back to the water and sighed, sitting a few minutes more before he, too, rose up and walked out of the room. He wandered the halls for a bit, soon coming upon a room of closets. Raising an eyebrow, he stepped over to one and tugged at the knob. It sprung open and out popped at least a dozen coats, ranging from black leather to the purple tweed one he'd remembered him wearing before.  
    A smirk crossed his lips as he spied a lengthy, tan trench coat and he grinned, plucking it out of the pile,  
"Y-ello, Joplin. We meet, again..."  
With a snicker, her put it on and popped the collar, giving a little twirl before he started for the door,  
"Aww yeah."  
He paused before leaving, spotting a piece of aged paper on the floor. Curious, he picked it up and looked it over. It was a letter of some kind. He unfolded it and cleared his throat, smiling to himself. Was it some kind of love letter? Something the Doctor would not be particularly keen on him finding?  
    All the better to read it then, he thought, and took a breath.  
" _Doc, if you're reading this, then that can only mean one thing. We failed_."  
The smile fell from his face as he continued reading, his heart dropping to his stomach,  
" _Girl got nabbed by the S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. We're heading out to Batt City to bring her back. They're armed to the teeth up in that place. What we're doing...well, it's probably sui...._ "  
    He let the paper fall to his side and staggered to the wall. His head began swimming. He could barely see straight. Squeezing his eyes shut briefly, he looked back down at the paper and finished reading it, his blood beginning to boil,  
"He knew. He fucking knew this whole time."  
Clenching it in his fist, he stormed out of the room and back into the hall on a mad search for the eccentric alien.  
  
    ~ø~  
  
    Clara sighed as she trudged down the hall, rubbing her arm with head bowed. She could hear the Doctor and Jack talking above her, something about heading to the Wildlands to see where the ship that had annihilated L.A had come from. He was under the impression that whatever it was running from had to be connected to whatever took Australia. She wasn't so sure. Neither was Jack, from the sound of it, but he was willing to go along. She wondered about him, wasn't too sure if she liked him.   
    What he had done to Party Poison had upset him pretty badly, and she wasn't sure that someone like that was worthy of being trusted. She had definitely not liked seeing Poison in such a bad way, so broken and torn and angry all at once, and not knowing how to help him. Words seemed to help a little, but she felt it might not be enough. So, she waited until the Doctor left the room to head upstairs. She would investigate for herself, see just what kind of person this Jack Harkness truly was.  
    Reaching the top step, she cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest, slowly strutting up beside him,  
"So, your name was Jack, was it?"  
The sapphire-eyed soldier smiled as she approached, and turned to face her, leaning back on the console,  
"It sure is. Clara Oswald?"  
    She nodded, motioning to his wrist,  
"That a vortex manipulator?"  
"Yep," he nodded, looking her up and down, "You ever used one?"  
"Once," she shrugged, "To get away from a zygon. Had to go save the Doctor from the Tower of London. Did you know he married Queen Elizabeth I?"  
    "The Virgin Queen," Jack gasped, shaking his head, "You're kidding!"  
"Dead serious. Ran off afterward, too. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to kill him for it later."  
"Neither would I," he smirked with a sigh, "Doctor, you dog."  
She watched him scan the monitor, and cleared her throat again,  
"So, what brings you here? Aside from the giant robot that smashed into Earth a few hours ago, I mean..."  
    Jack paused briefly, snorting as he looked over at her,  
"Ahh, I see. This is about Mikey-boy, isn't it?"  
She blushed and quickly shook her head,  
"I-I don't know what you mean?"  
"Oh, I think you do," Jack said, leaning on the console as he folded his arms, "Believe it or not, I've had this conversation more than a few times. I've been around, I'm sure you've heard."  
    "A little," she said, her gaze beginning to falter as she wrung her hands together.  
"Well, it's fine. You can take it easy, Miss Oswald. What Mikey-boy and I had is dead and gone. He's all yours."  
She coughed at that, quickly shaking her head as her eyes widened,  
"O-Oh, I don't want him! No, no that wasn't what I was saying!!"  
    Jack raised an eyebrow at her quick reaction and she groaned, rolling her eyes,  
"Look, Mikey-boy-- _Party Poison_ , he's my friend. He's my friend and _you_ hurt him. And I just came to say, I think you should apologise. Even if it was just a quickie in a hot tub."  
"Is that what he told you," Jack said, sounding strangely hurt.  
Clara frowned,   
"Yeah. Why, was there more to it than that?"  
    Biting his lip, the man snorted, looking to her with a grimace,  
"Oh, yeah. There was a lot more."  
    " _DOC_!"  
    They both turned at the sound of Poison's angry shout, and Clara swallowed hard,  
"Here we go."  
The Doctor poked his head out the room upstairs at the sound of his name, and hurried down to the console, eyebrow raised as Party Poison marched up the stairs in a flurry of rage.   
    The fiery, red head marched right up into his face,  
"You knew," he panted.  
The Doctor looked him up and down, confusion on his face,  
"Who said you could wear that coat--"  
"You knew," Poison repeated, eyes beginning to glisten.  
"I got that coat from Janis Joplin," the Doctor said, pointing at it, "Who let you wear my coat? Take off my coat!"  
    Grabbing the Doctor by his lapels, he pulled him down to meet him eye to eye, hazel eyes burning with rage,  
"You knew the whole goddamn time and you weren't gonna bother to tell me!?"  
Clara's eyes widened as she rushed forward to break them up,  
"Party Poison, calm down!"  
    She glanced over at Jack, who seemed as confused as she was. He hung back, however, staying out of it.  
"No, don't tell me to calm down," he pushed her away, getting right into the Doctor's face, "He's been fucking lying this whole time--"  
"You know," the Doctor scowled, shaking his head with a sigh, "You are a very _angry_ young man. You're like a shaken fizzy drink, I'm surprised you haven't exploded all over everyone. Why is that? Is it the hair? The red, red colour of rage just seeping out from your follicles into your brain?"  
    "You wanna know why I'm angry," he forced a grin, raising the letter up so the Doctor could see it. The man froze. Poison smirked,  
"Shut you up, didn't it? Yeah, I found it. It was hanging out with your coat. You know? The purple one that Jay Leno used to wear?"  
Clara straightened at that. She watched Poison closely. He looked as though he were ready to cry.  
    "Time to be honest, now. And I want the truth. I don't fucking care how painful it is," he said, his voice beginning to break as his hand shook, "What happened to her?"  
The Doctor bowed his head, and sighed,  
"Michael--"  
"WHAT," the red head cut him off, a tear gliding down his cheek, "Happened. To. Her?"  
Jack stepped forward finally, hands on his hips,  
"Doctor? What is this? What's going on?"  
    Clara looked to the Doctor, her lip in a line,  
"Well, answer him."  
Wiping a hand over his mouth, the Doctor nodded shortly,  
"Fine. Since you've already read it, I don't see the harm, now."  
Turning around, he turned on the monitor and let the TARDIS find the security footage from the BLIndustries headquarters. He then stepped aside and let the young man watch.  
    Jack watched briefly as well, but quickly turned away as the laser seared straight through Poison's skull. The red head watched it play out in it's entirety, continuing to gaze at the screen once the playback had finished and it had defaulted back to the map screen.   
"You die, Michael," the Doctor said grimly, arms folded as he leaned against the console, "You die and she lives. _Alone_. Without you."  
    Poison bowed his head at that. He felt his chest constrict as he tried to breathe and glanced over at Clara. She shook her head as a tear hit her cheek and mouthed to him, _'I'm sorry.'_  
"You knew, too," he finally managed and she bowed her head, her face contorting as she gave a nod.  
They stood in stunned silence, the four of them, none knowing what to say.  
    A sudden crash broke the quiet and the TARDIS jolted to a halt. Her normally green lights turned red as another jolt sent the foursome tumbling. The Doctor, managing to gain his bearings, quickly held on to the console as Jack grabbed the railing. Without thinking, Poison dashed forward to catch Clara and they both fell to the grated floor with a loud thunk. She coughed and gasped for air, having had the wind knocked out of her, and Poison sat up, holding her arms tight,  
"You okay?"  
    She nodded, still coughing as she got up on her knees and grabbed the railing. Another crashed caused them to jerk forward and she screamed, turning to the Doctor with wide eyes,  
"What's happening!?"  
"I don't know," he shouted back, hearts beating frantically in his chest, "Something's got us in a gravity lock! The TARDIS is trying to escape!"  
    Another crash and the doors flew wide open. A blaring of a siren went off in the console room the sudden release of pressure created a vacuum. The Doctor cursed,  
"She's gone offline!! I can't get the power back!"  
Poison grunted as he felt himself being dragged along the floor toward the open doorway and he quickly grabbed onto the railing, his vibrant hair blowing in front of his face as he glanced toward the open door.  
    Outside, in the vast reaches of space, seemed to be some kind of giant ship, waiting for them at the edge of the universe.  
"Doc, what is that!?"  
"What's what!?"  
"That ship out there!? Is it the Borg, again!?"  
    The Doctor looked up, his eyes widening upon seeing it,  
"No, no it can't be...."  
Upon seeing it, Jack froze and swallowed hard,  
"Dear God, is that....?"  
    The Doctor nodded, his voice barely audible over the suction,  
"A Dalek war ship."  
Clara gasped as she tumbled and felt herself being dragged across the floor. She reached for the railing. Fearing she might miss, Poison reached for her as she flew up beside him, making sure she got a good hold of the bar.  
    "Are you okay!?"  
She nodded shortly and smiled to him, clinging to the railing for dear life,  
"Yeah, I'm good!"  
He smiled back...and lost his grip. She gaped in horror, reaching for him as she watched him be sucked toward the doors, away from her, and out toward the vacuum of space.  
  
 ** _"PARTY POISON!!"_**  
  



	6. My Heart Tells Me

"No," Clara screamed, reaching for him desperately, "Party Poison!"

The Doctor gasped, glancing up at the sound of her scream just in time to see the red head disappear through the open doors. It had happened so fast, he hadn't even had time to think. Luckily, Jack was already springing into action.

Tapping at the bracer around his wrist, he disappeared in a brilliant flash of light and seconds later, reappeared with Party Poison in his arms. He grabbed hold of the console as tightly as he could, and turned to the Doctor,

"Doctor, the door!"

Quickly hustling around the console, the Doctor slammed his hand down on the door release and they snapped shut, ending the vacuum pull and restoring the pressure inside the cabin.

Lowering Poison to the ground, Jack held him tight, cradling his head as he leaned over him,  
"C'mon, Mikey-boy. Don't do this to us, yeah?"

The fiery-haired man did not respond. Rising to her feet, Clara staggered over on shaky legs and knelt down beside them, eyes wide,

"I-Is he....?"

The Doctor straightened as he stepped around to look. His hearts raced as he waved the sonic screwdriver at over him. Party Poison was not breathing.

Lying him flat on the grated floor, Jack took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves as he checked for a pulse,

"Okay, then. I didn't wanna do this, but you're giving me no other choice."

Tilting Poison's head back, he pinched the man's nose shut and parted his lips, leaning down to feed him a few breaths.

Clara tensed, looking on nervously as he repeated this action several times. Finally, he pulled back, completely out of breath as he gasped for air,

"C'mon, Mikey-boy," he panted, "C'mon..."

No response.

Clara gazed down at him blankly and in disbelief. With a sniffle, she reached down and lightly touched his hand, slowly wrapping hers around it,

"Please," she whispered, a tear hitting her cheek, "Please don't go."

A few moments passed.

Feeling a soft squeeze at her hand, Clara straightened as he let out a sudden gasp and sat up,

"Party Poison?"  
He doubled over, coughing and sputtering as he struggled for air. Finally, he sat back and shook his head as he turned to look at the Doctor,

"Three for three now, Doc. Seriously...you have got to stop taking my breath away..."

The Doctor straightened at that, his bushy brows furrowing as he frowned,

"Me!? I didn't do anything to you, it was Jack--!!"

Party Poison rolled his eyes at that and groaned in disgust as he wiped his mouth,

"Ugh, seriously!? No wonder I didn't feel any tongue."

"That's because I was trying to save your life," Jack shouted, shaking his head as the red head glared him down, "Not cop a feel!!"

"Which is a first for him," the Doctor interjected pointedly, "And we're all very proud."

"Shut up," the blue-eyed man barked, rising to his feet, "And as for you? You know what? I don't need a thank you. It's fine. Whatever. But you need to stop acting like a child--"

" _I_ need to stop acting like a child," Poison snorted, shooting up quickly, " _I_ need to stop acting like a child!? I'm not the one who played dead for 76 years, thank you very much--!!"

"Well, maybe if I'd known who you really were, I would have gone looking for you!! You ever think of that!?"

"Well, maybe if I'd known who _you_ were, I would have just laughed when I got the news that you'd been shot out of the sky, instead of drowning my sorrows in the form of a smokin' hot Marine!”

"Boys," the Doctor began, rubbing his temples sorely, "Can we stop with the domestics, please--"

"Is that how it is, then _,_ " Jack snapped, staring the red-head down, "What we had was really so insignificant that my 'death' meant a night at the bar and pants-less tango with the closest seamen you could find--"

"Well, your _seamen_ wasn't exactly available at the time, so yeah, I guess I did," Party Poison snipped, "And his name was Barry, by the way. He was a really nice guy, too. Liked to make origami napkins. Which is more than I ever even found out about you, anyway, so what the fuck do you care--?"

"We were together for three months," Jack shrieked, his face turning as red as Poison's hair, "How can you stand there and say you knew nothing about me!?"

Poison halted at that, shaking his head with a confused smirk,

"Wh-What?"

Clara frowned as she glanced between them,

"Doctor, what's going on?"  
"I'm not sure," the Doctor began, swallowing hard, "But I think I may have an idea."

"Three months," Jack repeated, "Maybe that's nothing to you in whatever time you came from, but it means something to me! Because for the first time in an unbelievably long time, I didn't feel so alone in the universe! There was something about you, Mikey-boy. I felt...I felt like you were somebody I could really hold on to...and there's not a lot of people left that I want to hold on to, anymore."

"It was just a quickie in a hot tub," Poison insisted, jaw tightening, "That's it...that had to be it..."

"No, it wasn't," the dark-haired soldier replied, eyes beginning to well with tears, "We talked about the future! Not of the Earth's, but of ours! What we were gonna do after the war...how we'd go to the Grand Canyon and watch the sunset, how we'd tour through all of Europe, see the Eiffel Tower. I mean, I've seen 'em all already, but seeing them with you...? Now, that would've been something--"

"We were drunk in a hot tub," Poison repeated, rubbing a hand to his face. He felt hot, "That's it."

Jack looked hurt. He shook his head, biting his lip,

"Seriously...?"

"Seriously," the fiery-haired man shrieked, pulling at his hair in aggravation, "I have no idea what you're talking about!! I was never in any relationship with you!! I don't remember it! And if I had been, it would have been in my fucking journal, ain't that right, Doc!?"

The Doctor was silent. Poison turned to him, nodding vigourously,

"Doc? Ain't that right? C'mon, tell him."

Taking a breath, the Doctor sighed deeply, and glanced between them,

"He's right."

Poison smirked at that, then turned to Jack with a sneer,

"See? I fucking told you--"

"From late December of 1943, to March 5th, 1944, you and Jack were in a serious relationship, which you thought, at the time, might have been worth losing your old life over."

Party Poison gaped at him blankly, a torn expression on his alarmed face. The Doctor shook his head,

"It was all there, Michael. All three months worth of your obnoxious canoodling and your faceless hugs. In fact, there was much of it we had to skim over in order to spare Girl's delicate sensibilities."

Clara grimaced at that, turning to Poison with concerned eyes. He looked so lost.

"H-How," he breathed, running a hand through his hair, "How is that possible!? I would remember that. I would remember somethin' like that!"

"In those times," the Doctor began, waving his hand as he strolled toward them, "It was common for victims of electroshock therapy to forget huge chunks of their lives, given that the practice was not regulated."

"That's why you didn't know the Doctor was alien," Clara stated, glancing back and forth between him and the Doctor, "I mean, you travelled with him. It would have been strange for you not to know. You had to have known."

"Of course he knew," the Doctor snorted, "He made it a point to call me the name of every alien he could think of from American cinema."

Jack frowned at that and shook his head,

"Wait a minute...Mikey-boy, they shocked you?"

Poison looked at Jack briefly, then darted his eyes to the floor, beginning to stammer,

"They-they only did it....once. It was just once."

He then fell silent.

Suddenly, an alarm began to howl, echoing throughout the console room, and the Doctor cursed,

"They've taken us aboard."

Clara's eyes went wide and she shook her head, running after him around the control board,

"Can't you break out of this!? Doctor, we have to escape!!"

"Of course we have to escape, don't you think I known that!?"

"Then, why aren't we escaping!?"

The doors to the TARDIS burst open, then, and in rolled the brass armoured monstrousity, shouting shrilly as it aimed it's stalk straight for them,

"YOU ARE THE DOCTOR! ENEMY OF THE DALEKS! YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!"

Jack gasped as the stalk began to glow, quickly darting in front of Party Poison as it began to fire off shots.

"EXTERMINATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!!"

The blast hit him square in the chest and he fell to the floor, smoke spiralling from the burn mark in his shirt. Poison's eyes widened as he gaped at him, frozen in shock.

The Dalek aimed again, this time right at Party Poison's head,

"EXTERMINATE!!"

"No," Clara shouted, rushing quickly to his side as the Doctor frantically called after her. Hopping up beside Poison, she snatched his gun from the holster on his thigh and aimed for the stalk. Surprisingly, she got it in one shot and the glass popped, sending the Dalek into a tizzy as it rolled back out the doors.

Slamming the doors shut behind it, the Doctor fretted over the controls, trying to kick the TARDIS back into gear,

"C'mon, old girl...wakey wakey."

Clara looked on sadly as Party Poison slumped to the floor beside Jack's lifeless form, his gun still in her hand,

"Party Poison?"

He said nothing. Kneeling down beside him, she placed a hand on his back and shook her head,

"I'm sorry. I'm so--"

"Get away from me," he said, his tone harsh and angry, yet somehow devoid of emotion. Nodding shortly, she set the gun down beside him and rose to her feet, rushing back over to the Doctor,

"Can you get her moving?"

"No, she won't budge an inch."

"Well, let me try, yeah," she called, rounding the console to the Link. With a hard swallow, she rolled up her sleeves and cringed, carefully plunging her fingers in. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate, but found herself struggling. The only thing on her mind at the moment was how Party Poison must be feeling.

"C'mon, Clara, get her going!"

She growled as the Doctor shouted in her ear and shook her head,

"I'm trying!"

Poison sat in silence, head cradled in his hands as he gazed down at Jack. Three months. He had spent three months of what was apparently a blissful, budding romance with a man he could scarcely remember beyond a spirited "soirée" in a hot tub. He bowed his head in thought. The anger and the hurt he felt didn't lie, however. Why would he be that upset if it was just a quickie? Why would he have been so broken up to hear of Jack's death if the man hadn't meant something to him? And now, here he was again, Jack lying at his feet, dead for a second time.

Seeing Poison's suddenly mopey state, the Doctor rolled his eyes and let out a groan,

“Oh, please! Tell him to stop mucking around and get off the floor.”

Clara gasped at his callous remark, her head whipping about like lightning,

“Doctor!”

“C'mon, now, we haven't got all day--”

“Doctor,” Clara snipped again, removing her hand from the Link. She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him aside,

“What is wrong with you? A man just died! A man that he might have loved and can't remember! Let him have a minute--!”

“Nonsense,” the Doctor scoffed, shaking his head as he motioned toward them, “He's fine! Aren't you--?”

“Doctor, I mean it,” Clara snarled. She glanced back at Poison sadly. There were tears in his eyes.

With a scowl, she spun back to the Doctor, waving a finger at him,

“Stop.”

Groaning audibly, the Doctor groaned,

“Fine, don't take my word for it! Let him tell you himself! You're all right, aren't you, Jack?”

A sudden, shockingly loud gasp was the reply, and Clara spun around.

Party Poison had leapt back away from Jack, sprawled haphazardly on the floor with gun in hand and ready to shoot. And Jack was sitting up.

Eyes wide, she turned to the Doctor and the Doctor shrugged,

“I told you.”

Jack held up his hands as he laid eyes on Poison's gun and swallowed hard, panting breathlessly,

“No...! Don't! Please, don't shoot me again...! You have no idea how much it hurts.”

Shocked and slightly disgusted, Party Poison climbed to his feet and backed away from the undead man as fast as he was able,

“Y-y-you died, you were dead. You're dead.”

“I told you,” Jack gasped, rising to his feet, “I do that.”

Another alarm rang out overhead and the Doctor softly cursed,

“They're coming back. We have to go, now!”

“Doctor,” Clara stammered, shaking her head, “H-H-How did he do that?”

The Doctor ignored her. Frantically, he dashed around the console and pulled back a few of the levers,

“But we can't go anywhere! We're in a lock! We're stuck! Not even linking to Clara can get us out!!”

A loud banging sounded at the doors, and from behind it, they could hear a chorus of “EX-TER-MIN-ATE” echoing loudly into the air. Clara shook her head, snapping out of her daze quickly as she rushed over to the panicking Doctor,

“Doctor! There has to be a way to break the lock they've got on us! How!?”

“I don't know!”

“Doctor--!!”

The two of them jumped as the TARDIS lurched forward, suddenly breaking free. Glancing across the console, she spotted Party Poison, hands dipped into the Link and eyes closed. It took them just moments to get out of the range of the warship, and very soon they were effortlessly fleeing down the time stream to safety.

When they finally came to a stop, Party Poison pulled his hands back from the slots and wiped them off,

“You do know I was joking when I said you should lube her up and take her for a spin, right?”

“How did you do that,” the Doctor asked with a grin, rounding the console excitedly, “Neither of us could break her free!”  
The red head turned away as he came over, quickly heading for the door,

“Well, you know me. Running away is kind of my specialty. Especially if it means getting the fuck away from you...”

Throwing open the door, he stepped out of the TARDIS, Clara at his heels. They were back at the Diner.

“Party Poison,” she said quickly, “Wait!”

“No,” he shouted, refusing to look at her.

Rushing forward, she spun him around to face her,

“Please, listen!”

“Why should I!?” he shook his head, pushing her hand away.

Stepping right up to her, he glared her directly in the eye,

“This whole time...you knew. You knew what would happen to me, to my friends. To Girl--!!”

“Party Poison--”

“Just stop it,” he hissed, shaking his head, “You don't get it, do you?”

She frowned as he continued his rant, feeling a lump welling in her throat. He snorted,

“You wanna know why neither of you could get the damn box going? Well, I'll tell you why. It's cause you didn't want to. See, you and Doc, you liked the danger. Wanted to see what would happen if we stayed just a little longer. You liked not knowing whether or not the next second would be your last. Well, do you know what I like?”

He motioned behind him to the Diner.

“This. This is what I like! I like being home. In my desert. With my family. I like _knowing_ , Girly! I like keeping the people I care about safe and how can I do that if I'm floating around out here in the anals of time and space!?”

"I think you mean _'annals'_ , Mikey-boy," Jack interjected. Poison ignored him.

“I'm sorry--,” Clara began, but he cut her off.

“No, you're not! Neither of you are! The danger excites you! And maybe if I didn't see body parts and dead kids and explosions every time I closed my eyes, it would excite me, too, but it doesn't! And I do! Why do you think I drown it all away in bots and loud music!?”

She gazed at him in stunned silence, her heart sinking at the look of defeat on his face,

“Party Poison....”

“I haven't had a single goddamn moment of peace since I met him,” he motioned to the TARDIS, head bowed shamefully, “Or you. So, I think you should both get back in your box and go. Get the hell out of my desert. And stay out.”


	7. Only A Day Away

 

Clara sighed as she sat on the stairs, eyes downcast. The Doctor and Jack were talking about something, likely to do with the Dalek warship or Destroya or maybe even Australia. She wasn't sure. She was too distracted.

His words had been so cold. Cold and harsh and full of hurt.

“ _Get the hell out of my desert and stay out.”_

With a groan, she curled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees.

“Clara,” the Doctor rounded the TARDIS, looking at her in concern, “Your eyes are doing that thing again...”

“What thing?” she said, heaving a heavy sigh.

“That thing,” he said, “That thing where they get all big and start to leak.”

Straightening, she quickly wiped them off tears and stood up, forcing a smile,

“N-No, they're not. I'm fine! I am absolutely fine. Have you figured out what happened with Australia, yet?”

Eyeing her suspiciously, he followed her back to the monitor and shook his head,

“No, not quite. Destroya, on the other hand...”

He brought up a screen and she leaned in closer.

“It was running from the Daleks. Came here for protection.”

“Why would it do that?”

“Very simple,” he said, clicking a button on the console.

All around them, a series of voices echoed, one of whom she recognised. It was the Doctor's old voice, from the face she had first met him in.

“ _This planet is protected!”_

“ _IT. IS. DEFENDED,”_ another one snipped and Jack laughed, seeming almost teary-eyed,

“Oh, boy howdy! There's a blast from the past...”

“These are all your voice,” Clara said, shaking her head, “All your lives recorded.”

“Yes,” the Doctor nodded, “And in each clip, I am making the same statement.”

He hit another button and another screen popped up.

_**UNDER MY PROTECTION – THE DOCTOR,** _ it read.

“That I am here to defend the Earth.”

“So, then it didn't destroy Los Angeles on purpose,” Clara said, shaking her head, “It was just looking for sanctuary from the Daleks.”

“Yes, and perhaps that's the most frightening scenario,” the Doctor sighed, shaking his head, “It fleeing here will mean the Daleks will follow. And if the Daleks follow, then--”

“The whole planet will be about as safe as an active war zone,” Jack finished, shaking his head.

With a nod, Clara turned to the Doctor,

“Okay, that's bad. So, what do we do about it?”

The Doctor looked to her blankly. She shook her head and smiled,

“What? Why are you lookin' at me like that?”

 

~ø~

 

Party Poison sighed as he lay on the roof of the Diner, gazing at the morning sky. The sound of a car pulling in drew his attention and he sat up, spotting the Trans Am below. Fun Ghoul stepped out from the driver's seat, looking very perturbed,

“What the hell, man!? Where the fuck have you been!?”

Standing up, he shrugged and walked to the edge, hopping down onto the run down BLI Vending Machine before jumping to the ground,

“'Where haven't I been?' would be more accurate,” Poison smirked, shaking his head, “You know Doc.”

“Jet and Kid are out looking for you, right now,” Ghoul continued, “Cherri-cola's been getting the word out on every channel. Hot Chimp's got all Killjoys on alert. Even Show Pony's out looking!”

Poison snorted at that and shook his head,

“Why all the trouble? Jesus. Ain't you boys got anythin' better to do?”

“That's exactly what I told him.”

Poison spun around and grinned, shaking his head as he spotted a chair-bound man in the doorway of the Diner,

“Triple D! Fancy meetin' you here!”

He started forward, acting as though he were going to hug the man and Dr. D quickly pulled into reverse,

“You know I'm not a touchy feeling man, boy. The hell are you doin'?”

Poison grinned and shook his head as he stopped,

“Not even a pat on the back? For old times sake?”

“Absolutely not,” the bearded DJ grumbled, turning his chair around, “One touch and we'd rip a hole in the space time continuum. _Probably_.”

The red head snorted at that and sighed,

“You always say that.”

“Keeps you from touchin' me, don't it?”

He wheeled himself over to a young girl lying fast asleep at one of the booths. Leaning forward, he gently touched her shoulder and shook her arm,

“Hey, Sweet Pea. Wake up. Look what the proverbial cat finally dragged in.”

Girl rubbed her eyes as she sat up, face a light as she spotted Party Poison standing there,

“You're not dead!!”

Hopping down from the booth, she ran to him and threw her arms around his legs. Poison grinned,

“A'course not! Where the fuck would you get that idea--”

“Oh, I dunno,” a sudden, angry voice hollerred from the doorway. It was Kobra Kid, “Maybe the fact that you disappeared after the Mad Gear concert and we haven't fucking heard from you in _three_ weeks!”

Jet Star stepped in behind him, removing his helmet with a dark scowl. Poison swallowed hard at that,

“Three weeks?”

They all nodded. He bowed his head.

The time stamp on that security video had read November 18 th , 2019. At the time that he'd left, that date had been three weeks away.

His eyes widened,

“Wh-What day is it?”

“November 17th ,” Dr. D. said, looking square at the red head with a scowl.

Poison turned to him with wide eyes. D was eyeing him over his glasses. He frowned. There was something in his stare, a strange sadness that made him feel as if D knew more than he were letting on.

Shaking his head, he swallowed hard and staggered outside.

Tomorrow. They were all going to die tomorrow.

 

~ø~

 

She sat at her desk, quietly filing through her paper work when there was a sudden commotion at her door.

“Madam Director,” called Korse, urgently bursting in without a so much as a knock, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked calmly, not even bothering to look up.

“About the Dalek fleet that is headed straight your way,” another, unfamiliar voice answered.

The woman raised her gaze to find a silvery-haired man with hawkish eyes standing at her desk.

She straightened, glancing over at Korse curiously,

“Who is this man? And what is he doing in my office?”

“He's the Doctor,” said another voice, more feminine this time. From behind the old man stepped a tiny young woman whom she did recognise.

“And he's here to save your lives.”

Madam Director rose from her chair, keeping her eyes locked on the young woman,  
“You, again. I thought I was rid of you...”

The young woman frowned to that, seeming suddenly alarmed,

“O-Oh?”

She looked to the Doctor. He seemed equally confused.

Madam Director quickly rounded the table, approaching her at a quick pace. She grabbed the young woman's face with lighting speed, and immediately noticed a spike in her heartbeat.

“Clara Oswald,” she said simply, voice monotone, “Aged 28. Born November 23, 1986.”

“Okay,” Clara nodded shortly, brown eyes wide, “That's weird.”

“You're not her,” the Director continued, hands behind her back as she paced around them, “But at the same time, you are.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Clara frowned.

Madam Director did not reply. Instead, she turned to Korse, and nodded shortly,

“Take these two to a holding cell. I wish to further examine them. Especially, Miss Oswald...”

Grabbing them firmly by the arms, the men dragged them from the room in opposite directions. Clara let out a scream as they led the Doctor to a hall on the right, kicking and writhing as they led her to the left

“Doctor!?”

“Don't worry, Clara,” the Doctor called back, “Everything is going great!”

“Great!? You call _this_ great!?”

“Sure, why not! Isn't this plan great, Jack?”

Clara's group stopped short as a tall, blue-eyed man wielding a large rifle stepped out from around the corner. Cocking his gun, he offered them a grin,

“Oh, I think it's better than great, Doctor.”

He started forward, aiming the gun at the group,

“You'll listen to what these two have to say.”

“And if we don't,” Madam Director said calmly. Jack smirked and shook his head,

“Trust me. You'll want to hear it.”

She fell silent. With a snap of her fingers, she turned toward the Doctor as Korse drew his gun, and shot Jack square between the eyes. Clara gasped as the man fell lifeless to the ground, his rifle clattering away from him. She spun to look at the Doctor as the Director spoke,

“I will have a chat with this Doctor. Take the Operator to her cell.”

She headed down the hall after the Doctor's group, shouting back to Korse,

“And take that body out for disposal. Anyone that stupid has no business being refurbished.”

Clara swallowed hard as she watched a pair of Draculoids scoop Jack up and drag him out of sight.

Korse smiled at her,

“No need to worry. You won't end up in the same boat as him. There are plenty of uses for a delicate mind such as yours.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Cause _that's_ what I'm worried about.”

She glanced back down the hall as they led her away, briefly making eye contact with the Doctor before he disappeared around the corner.


	8. Suffer All The Children

 

 

A white van pulled up at the outskirts of Battery City and out stepped two men dressed all in white. Masks upon their faces, they walked around to the back of the van and opened it up. Together, they grabbed a stark white body bag and pulled it out, grunting and panting as they carried it over to the nearby fence. Swinging it a few times for momentum, they tossed it over, one of them looking to the other,

"Didn't she say to take it to Disposal?"

The other one nodded,

"Yeah, but it's full back there. Out here works just fine."

"But the Director--"

"Look," they said, "She said get rid of it. Do you wanna wait around for the next hour and a half for Disposal to free up or do you wanna head over and catch the bot girls in the Red Light District?"

"You know, come to think of it, maybe she _did_ say we could dump it here..."

The pair laughed and climbed back into the van, leaving the bag in a cloud of dust as they peeled away from the fence.

After a few moments of still and quiet, the bag began to rustle and wiggle. Finally catching the zipper, Jack gasped as he tore out of the bag, and glanced around. To the right was the city, to the left, nothing but desert.

Climbing to his feet, he shook his head,

"Well, then."

 

~ø~

 

"So, _you_ are the Doctor?" Madam Director began, taking a seat across the table from him.

The Doctor nodded,

"Who else would I be?"

"I don't know," she said, nodding to the bald man standing looming behind him, "But my man there insists you are not the same _Doctor_ who was reported infiltrating the Zones nearly a month ago. You're different. How?"

"Puberty," the Doctor quipped, beginning to smirk.

"Puberty?"

"Yes, I'm a _late_ bloomer."

The Director narrowed her eyes,

"Why did you come here, Doctor? What is the purpose of your visit?"

"Oh, you know. Just thought I'd have a spa day," he replied, shaking his head, "Take a load off. Thought a few of your mind altering chemicals might do the trick."

The Director smiled,

"We do good work here, Doctor. There's no need to be on the offensive."

"There's a stiff difference between helping and harming, Madam Director," the Doctor snarled, "And I think we both know which one your company has been up to. But I'm not really here to talk about that...there are more important things to be taken care of at the moment."

"Like what, Doctor?" she raised a brow.

"Several dozen Dalek warships chasing the gigantic robot that touched down here a few years back come to mind. I would estimate that, at the speed they were travelling they should be right on your door step any minute."

"Should they, now?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor nodded vigorously, "They're coming. And it will only be a matter of time before every single person on this planet is eradicated...unless you let me help you."

"Eradicated?" she straightened, "Everyone."

"Yes," the Doctor pressed, "Everyone."

She smiled at that and rose from the table,

"Excellent. I'll let them start with you."

Turning for the door, she headed out into the hall,

"Take him to a cell. I'll see to the girl."

The Doctor straightened, rising to his feet as she walked away,

"No, wait! You have to listen to me! I'm trying to help you--"

"The Director has no need for the aid of Killjoy conspirators," Korse said abruptly, shoving the Doctor back into the chair. Walking around the table, he sat down and smirked,

"Now, I have some questions for you. Questions of my own..."

The Doctor grimaced at that and shook his head,

"I don't really want to answer your questions, though...."

"Well, that's too bad. Because you're not going anywhere until you do."

"Can't you just take me to my cell?" the Doctor sighed, "I was hoping for a cat nap before the end of the world."

"Who are you?" Korse asked, eyeing him up and down, "Truth."

"I already told you! I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Yes, the Doctor," he growled, sitting up quickly as Korse opened his mouth, "And don't--!!"

"Doctor, who?"

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor leaned back in his chain, jaw stiffening,

"—say it..."

 

~ø~

 

Clara swallowed hard as she sat by herself at a long, white table. She'd known this was a bad idea, that these people would never listen to what the Doctor had to say. From what Party Poison said, they didn't listened to anyone, not even their own people. Why else would the majority be forced to live out in the radiated Zones, while the higher ups lived luxuriously in the city? Of course, there were people like the Killjoys who opted for the desert, but the rest?

Drumming her fingers against the metal, she sighed. She had no idea how they would even get out of this, now. Jack, of course, could probably do something. Perhaps use the vortex manipulator to bounce in, get them, and bounce out, but he was just one person? What if he was caught? They'd either shoot him again, or seeing that he was miraculously not dead, they'd take him to some lab some place and dissect him. She frowned. She'd have to ask the Doctor how that worked. And by _that_ , she meant Jack.

The door burst opened, then and she jumped, eyes drawn to the entryway as Madam Director entered the room. She sat down across the table from Clara, manila folder in hand. Slapping it down on the surface, she sighed,

"Clara Oswald."

With a deep breath, Clara sat up straight and took a hard swallow. It was time to be brave, now,

"Madam Director."

The woman narrowed her eyes and opened the folder. She spread the contents out, allowing Clara to look at them all. Each one was a photograph, old given the quality of them, but only by a few years.

"These pictures," the Director began, "Were taken in 2014. See anyone familar?"

Clara straightened as she picked one up, eyes going wide. In the photograph, a young woman sporting a gun sat on the lap of a wheelchair-bound man with long, black hair and dark shades on. The woman looked exactly like herself.

With a nervous smile, she shrugged, and pointed to the man,

"Sure do. That's Dr. Death Defying."

Madam Director smiled at that, staring Clara down through narrowed eyes,

"Try again."

Clara set the photo back down on top of the folder and shook her head,

"I don't know who she is."

"Have you tried looking in a mirror?"

Clara leaned back in her seat and folded her arms,

"Depends. Have you tried maybe not brainwashing people into mindless, lackey-drones to do your bidding?"

The Director smiled at that and sat down on the table, hands on her lap,

"He's rubbing off on you, I see."

"Who is?"

"I think you know exactly who I'm talking about," the Director said, gently stroking Clara's hair.

Clara stiffened as the woman's fingertips gently traced her jawline.

"You know...I do see it. What he sees in you. You are an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Strong, brave...and very, very clever. And once upon a time, he saw all of those things in me, too..."

She remained silent as the Director stood, watching quietly as she stepped over to what she presumed was a double-sided mirror.

"It was so long ago, now. Lifetimes, infact. He made me feel like I could rule the world. That's what he does, you know. He wittles his way in, inch by inch, takes up roost in your veins like a drug. Sooner or later, you can't get enough of him. You keep coming back, over and over again...no matter how poorly he treats you. You may think you are his world, but who are you kidding? You're just one of many, a cog in his never-ending clockwork. And when he's done with you? When you've broken down into disrepair and you can no longer move with the rest of the machine? When he's tired of you? He'll replace you with someone else, because that's what he does. You are a nothing, Clara Oswald. We all are. Especially to Party Poison."

Clara shook her head,

"That's not true. You're wrong about him."

"Am I?"

Standing up, the Director took another photo from the folder and handed it to her. Clara frowned. This photo was much older than the other. By the looks of it, she would guess that it was taken sometime in the 40s. Her eyes widened.

Along the bottom, the words 'Stockton State Hospital – Men's Wing, 46' were written in red marker. Hand trembling, she touched the photo. In it, a man sat alone on the floor, eyes sunken and vacant. Jet black hair hung from his head, shaggy and long, and shadowing his face, but she could tell it was him. This was a photograph of Party Poison taken in 1946. She swallowed hard. He looked so sad.

"Party Poison," she breathed.

Madam Director nodded, and pointed to the background,

"Yes...and I believe there's someone else here you'll recognise."

She straightened. Grainy and blurred and crouching under a table just a few feet behind him was a woman in a short, hospital gown. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, but out of her face. Her remarkably familiar face. Touching a hand to her cheek, Clara shook her head and the Director smiled,

"Do you see now, Miss Oswald? How very little he cares for you?"

"No," she jumped up from the chair, furiously shaking her head, "You're wrong. I may not have known Party Poison for very long, but I know that much. He's got a bigger heart than anyone, even if he is a bit of an arse, sometimes! Now, if we're done talking about the wayward whimsy of your ex-boyfriend, I demand to know why you refuse to listen to anything the Doctor has had to say to you since we arrived. He's trying to warn you about a threat, something that could possibly save your life and the lives of everyone in your city and here _you_ are, sat down with me to chat about a boy! Little ridiculous, don't you think?"

The Director laughed, pacing the room as she shook her head,

"My, my. You are a fiesty little kitten, aren't you? But you misunderstand me. I'm not here to talk about _him._ I'm here to talk about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Miss Oswald, you," the Director said again, laying more photos out on the table, "You were there in 2014 and also in 1946. And now, here you stand, and it's 2019. How is that possible?"

"Simple," Clara shrugged, folding her arms, "It's not."

Madam Director smiled again as she pulled out one last photograph from her coat. It was old as well, also dated 1946. It was taken from a yard, where three, stone angels stood with their back turned from the camera. They were headed toward a house. A house with a picket fence and a rose garden. The bay window of the home was broken and in shards, as was the mirror that oddly stood behind it. And inside the home, she could just make out a boxy silhouette sat dead centre in the living room, and the words **'POLICE BOX'**. 

"I have seen this box in my research, numerous times. Sometimes featured at critical events in human history, sometimes stood on a street corner. And every time in conjunction with a man, _that_ man. The man you call, 'The Doctor'. Who is he, Miss Oswald? What does the box do?"

Clara remained silent. Pulling a small, leather whip from her coat, the Director grinned and snapped it taut,

"Does it travel through time? Through space? I've heard all the rumours, it's okay. You can tell me..."

She snapped the whip against the floor and Clara backed up to the wall, eyes wide.

"I want that box, Miss Oswald," she snapped the whip to the floor again, "Now, be a good girl and tell me where it is, won't you?"

Clara smirked, heart racing as she shook her head,

"No."

Narrowing her eyes, the Director raised the whip and aimed for the woman's face. With a loud crack, Clara's head snapped to the side and she let out a cry. Without a second thought, Clara reached up, tears in her eyes as she snagged a hold of coiled leather as it sailed back for the Director, and held on tight, licking the blood from her lips,

"You know what's great about kittens, Madam Director?" Clara began, grinning madly, "We have excellent reflexes."

Pulling on the whip, the Director stumbled toward her and grabbing her shoulders, Clara shoved her forcefully toward the table. Unable to stop, the Director crashed right into it, crushing the metal and sending the photos to the floor as she broke the table under her weight. Clara dashed for the door, and scrambled out into the hall, where she was cut off by a team of armed Draculoids.

The Director staggered out of the room after her, scowling darkly. Clara noted the odd way in which her leg had twisted. The skin at her knee had also been sliced open and was leaking an inky, black fluid, as well as sparking.

"I tried to do this the easy way, Miss Oswald, but you've given me no choice."

One of the Draculoids behind her stepped forward, spare mask in hand. Two others grabbed either of Clara's arms. She struggled to fight them as they marched her forward toward the one holding the mask.

The Director smiled,

"Now, we'll do it the  _ fun _ way."

 

 


	9. The Future Is What You Make It

Tomorrow.

Party Poison gazed at the road, foot firmly on the gas pedal as he sped down the desert highway, no particular destination in mind. He'd just needed air, no matter the thickness. 30% toxicity wasn't enough to clog his lungs up anyway. Not that it really mattered if it was. It's not like _that_ would kill him. He wasn't due to expire until....

_Tomorrow._

Pushing himself back against the seat, he shook his head and pushed the thought from his mind. Maybe he'd head back to Hyperthrust. Surely they had a show going. They always had a show going. Turning down the road, he headed in that direction, adjusted his grip on the wheel. Maybe the bots would be back. Violet and Teal might be up for Round Two. Round One's winner was anyone's guess, seeing as they'd been interrupted by a certain time travelling space alien. He smirked. He still couldn't believe Doc was an alien. What's more, he couldn't believe he hadn't asked before. Or maybe he had. Maybe he already knew and he just forgot. Forgot about it like he forgot about Jack.

Pulling into the dusty lot in front of the club, he peered at it through the window and frowned. It looked empty. Abandoned, even. He climbed out of the car and walked to the front door. Sure enough, stapled to the front was an order of demolition, sanctioned by BLI, dated for, sure enough, _**tomorrow.**_ Poison crumpled it in his hand as he tore it off the door and tossed it to the dirt. Then, pulling his gun from it's holster, he shot the hinges off the door and pushed on it. It fell to the ground with a thud. Stepping over the threshold, he glanced around at the dance hall as he walked inside. It had been empty for a while. If he had to make a guess, it probably closed the night he left three weeks ago.

There were burn marks on the walls and the floors. Exterminators. Maybe Doc getting him out had been a blessing in disguise? But that meant he'd left Ghoul and Jet to fend for themselves that night. He cringed. No wonder they'd been so pissed. He idly wondered if Mad Gear had made it out. With a deep sigh, he walked to the centre of the floor and sat down, cross-legged on the hardwood panelling. It was gone. The Hyperthrust was no more. And tomorrow, it'd be just as dusty as he would.

Completely wiped from existence.

With a hard swallow, he looked at the rosary laced around his wrist and sighed. He began to hum as he rubbed at the cross and beads, a hum that soon turned into singing.

"... _ in all the old familiar places. That this heart of my embraces, all day through... _ "

Closing his eyes, he pressed the rosary to his forehead and exhaled. He could almost see her, almost hear her singing it back to him. He laughed at the lump in his throat.

The only comfort in all this, he supposed, in knowing that tomorrow was the end, was the idea that he might finally be with her, again. Immediately, he felt guilty. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the hole in the ceiling. The clouds were beginning to turn pink, the sky gold. The sun was setting.

Sniffling softly, he squeezed the cross and forced a smile,

"H-Hey...you up there. You know, if uh...if somebody's listening. I...I kinda need to talk."

Clapping his hands, he rubbed them together a bit and shook his head. It was hard, talking to air.

"My friends and I...we, uh...we're gonna die tomorrow. And I don't know if I should tell 'em. It's...it feels...it's kinda like Normandy all over, a little bit. I-I knew my great uncle died storming Omaha...but I pushed him to do it, anyway. I mean, I didn't really have a choice, you know? It...it already happened! It was in the history books!"

He licked his lips,

"But the guys...they're not history, yet. And I don't wanna tell 'em if that means it seals their fate. I mean, would you? If you knew somebody was gonna die, and you had the chance to warn 'em...would you? Maybe it's better if they don't know. I mean, everybody's born knowing one day they're gonna bite it, but...maybe it's better if they don't know exactly when. Or how. 'Cause it sure as fuck is killin' me. Knowing..."

Shrugging, he snorted as a tear fell from his eye and shook his head,

"I know, I should be spending this time back at the Diner with them. I mean, it's the last night we're ever gonna have all together, but I...I can't even look 'em in the eye! I can't sit around, roasting marshmallows and singing campfire songs when I know that by this time tomorrow, somebody's gonna snatch up our little Sweet Pea and drag her off to Batt City, and that, just a few hours later, the four of us are gonna be off joining the Phoenix Witch in the Netherworld! I can't do it! I just... _can't_!"

Bowing his head, he ran his hands up through his hair, locking them tight on his scalp,

"I don't wanna take 'em there tomorrow," he began, squeezing his eyes shut, "Not when I know what happens. I don't wanna go."

"Then, don't."

He swallowed hard at the sudden voice behind him, and straightened. He didn't need to turn around. He knew who that voice belonged to.

"Don't go tomorrow, Mikey-boy," the voice said, "I don't want you to."

"This ain't really about what you want, Jack," Poison said, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

Jack was the last person he wanted to see, right now, especially when he was like this. He might do something he'd really regret.

"It never was with you," Jack said, "I could never get you to do anything I wanted to."

"You know I don't remember, right?"

"I know," Jack replied. He could hear the ache in his voice.

"But I do. Every second of it."

He heard Jack walk up beside him, felt him sit down at his side. He couldn't look at him, not when there was so much between them and so little he knew.

"You were not a morning person," Jack began, snorting softly, "Trying to get you out of bed before noon on a weekend was a wasted effort. Sometimes worth it, if pancakes were involved, but usually not. You liked to hog the bed and all the blankets. Most nights, I wound up on the floor or the couch cause you'd kick me straight off onto my ass. You talk in your sleep, too, you know that?"

"Yeah," he nodded, beginning to smirk, "I've been told."

"You always got real excited when we'd go downtown. Always insisted on driving. Which was fine, it was your car, anyway. Each time we'd go out, you'd pick what we did. And it was always the same. A walk down the Boulevard. Visit to Grauman's. Stop for coffee at that little café...God, what was it called?"

He snapped his fingers quickly, as if trying to summon the name from thin air,

"Coffee....something or other. Coffee Joe? Coffee Man....?"

" _ Coffee Dan's _ ?" Poison frowned. Where had he pulled that from?

"That was it," Jack exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "Coffee Dan's! Maybe you do remember a little something."

"Nah," Poison swallowed hard, "Just a lucky guess."

Jack sighed at that,

"Ah, well...anyway. Whatever we did, it was always your choice. In fact, when we first met, it was your choice to sneak into that Hollywood Party where we hopped in that jacuzzi. You remember that?"

" _ That _ I do, yeah," Poison grinned, snorting softly, " I met Greta Garbo that night. My dad would'a been so jealous..." 

"Your dad?"  
"Yeah, he had a thing for her when he was a kid. Bev said she'd play old movies when she babysat him, and he'd just charge up to the TV to watch her in nothin' but a diaper and socks."

"Sounds like he was living the life...."

"Yeah, don't it?"

They both laughed for a good minute, and Jack finally cleared his throat,

"What I'm saying is...whatever you decide to do tomorrow is your choice, Mikey-boy. Don't let what you saw dictate the future...unless that's what you want to happen. It's your life, your choice, nothing's changed."

With a sniffle, Poison nodded and turned to him with a smile,

"Thanks, Jack--," he quickly averted his gaze, covering his eyes, "And you're naked!!"

"Well, yeah," Jack snorted, glancing down at his lap, "I thought you knew."

"Why would I know you were naked, I didn't even look at you," Poison growled, quickly hopping away from him, "And besides that, why exactly  _ are _ you naked?"

"It's hot outside," Jack said, jabbing a thumb toward the door, "Really hot out."

"Well, it's a fucking desert, dip shit! What did you expect? The icy chill of the tundra?" Poison spun to face him, immediately blocking his eyes with a hand, "Now, could you put your fucking pants on please? I don't wanna see that, right now."

"Right now?" Jack grinned, leaning back on his palms, "What about later?"

"Put your pants back on, before I shoot your dick off."

"Yes, sir."

He headed back out to the car, Jack following after him as he hurriedly put his clothes back on,

"So, what were you doing all the way out here," Jack said, nearly tripping as he shoved his booted foot through the narrow leg of his trousers, "This where you live or something?"

"No, this is _not_ where I live," Poison growled, disgruntled, "I just needed to clear my head. And I could ask you the same fucking question, _Connor McLeod_! What were you doin' all the way out here?"

"Well, the Doctor had a plan," he began, finally shoving his trousers back on, "Which to be honest, wasn't the best plan. I've seen him think up some pretty brilliant ones, too. This one was just....I dunno. Bad."

"And?"  
"Right, and," Jack said, hands on his hips as he slung his coat and shirt over his shoulder, "The plan went South. Really far South. South for the Winter, South. Now, he and Clara are held up at the BLI Headquarters, and—"

"WHAT!?" Poison shrieked, eyes wide as he bolted around the car and climbed inside, "What the were you even doing down there!?"

"The Doctor wanted to warn them about the incoming Dalek warship. He's got a plan to send them on a detour--"

"And why the fuck didn't you stop him!?"

"Well, they shot me, Mike," Jack shouted back, dashing to the passenger's side as the red head frantically shoved the keys in the ignition, "And contrary to popular horror cinema portrayals, corpses really can't do all that much!"

"Why the fuck would he even take her there in the first place? I get he's got a hard on for danger, but what the fuck does he gotta go draggin' _her_ into it, for!?"

He slammed on the gas before Jack could pull his seat belt on, speeding down the dusty road toward the city in the distance. Of course, Doc would do something like this. It didn't matter who's life he was putting in danger, so long as he was having fun doing it.

"You know," Jack said from beside him, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about her."

Poison tightened his grip on the wheel, eyes focused on the road. He said nothing.

They continued onward toward Battery City in silence.


	10. Vampires Will Never Hurt You

 

She stood at the centre of the market square; lost, alone, afraid. Just a little girl, looking for any semblance of a familiar face. Wiping her nose of snot, she whimpered softly, inching toward the middle of the road,

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

“ _Clara...”_

She spun around. There was no one there. With a hard swallow, Clara called out a second time, heart racing like mad,

“Hello!? Mummy!? Daddy!?”

A whirring sounded behind her and she spun around. The mannequins in the shoppe windows were stirring, coming to life. She screamed as they broke through the glass and darted down the street in terror.

 

_**“Are you sure this is sane, Madam Director? I mean...she hasn't broken any laws...”** _

 

~ø~

 

The Director watched through the glass as the woman in the next room went berserk, screaming and tearing at the walls.

“ _HELP ME, PLEASE!”_ the woman screamed, “ _SOMEONE!! ANYONE!!”_

“Don't worry, Mr. Levko. This will break her,” she said, turning to the young man beside her, “No one can withstand such concentrated levels of Fear Gas.”

She watched, smirking silently as Clara ran to the other side of the room, smacking against the wall as she cried out frantically,

“ _PLEASE!! HELP ME!!”_

 

~ø~

 

Party Poison slowed down as they approached the city gate, pulling off on the side of the road,

“Shit. The guards. We can't go that way.”

“We could always hop in a body bag, see if they carry us in?” Jack suggested. Poison shook his head,

“No use. They let the bodies decompose first. If they see a bag with a body in it, they don't pick it up.”

“Then, what do you suggest?”

Poison smirked, a mischievous light in his eye,

“Oh, I think I may have an idea...”

 

~ø~

 

“So, what are your plans for the weekend, Jim?”

The driver of the white van, Jim, shrugged, turning to his passenger with a sigh,

“I dunno, Steve. I was thinking I'd take the kids to Neo Pasadena to visit their mom.”

“Oh, Vicki? How is she?”

Jim shrugged,

“Well, they've got her on Amnesia for the addiction and she's doing a lot better. She almost recognised me last time I went to see her.”

“I still can't believe she went Wavehead. That desert is radioactive! Who in their right mind thinks 'hey, maybe I'll go for a sunbathe' and doesn't come back for 3 weeks?”

Jim fell silent.

“Sorry, man,” Steve said, “I know it's tough. My sister did it, too, but they didn't get to her in time. I'm glad Vick's gonna be okay.”

“Me, too,” said Jim.

Looking to the road, he spotted a man waving his arms and shouting incoherently to the side.

“What the hell?”

Pulling over, Jim rolled down his window to the frantic man, noting the shirt tied around his head and the burn marks on his torso,

“Are you all right, sir?”

The man gasped and panted, shaking his head violently as he trembled,

“No, sir! No! Please, you have to help me! I was attacked by Killjoys! Just a ways down the road here!”

“Killjoys?” Jim quickly unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door, as did Steve, “What did they look like?”

“Me,” said a voice from behind him, and Jim gasped as an arm suddenly clamped itself around his head. It pressed against his windpipe, blocking off his air and he gasped, clawing frantically at his attacker. He heard Steve let out a shout, followed by a yelp as the roadside traveller disappeared in a blink of an eye. This was an ambush.

“Please,” he gasped, “Don't kill me...! I have a family...!”

“Yeah,” his attacker said, and through shadows on the ground, Jim could see him raising his gun arm into the air,

“Well, so did I, once.”

The gun arm came down and Jim felt a sharp pain in his head. His vision went black.

 

~ø~

 

Party Poison grunted as he tossed the driver to the dirt and placed is gun back in it's holster. Jack came charging around the van, dragging the passenger with him,

“Did you kill him?”

Poison rolled his eyes as he knelt down beside the downed man and began removing his clothes,

“Against my better judgement, no. I _didn't_ kill him.”

Tossing his jacket and shirt into the van, he donned the driver's clothing and stood up, nodding to Jack,

“Well, are you gonna get dressed? Or do you only know how to take your clothes off?”

Jack snorted and followed suit, removing his clothes and putting on the BLI worker's in their place. As he pulled down his pants, he grinned and and glanced back at the red head,

“Enjoying the view back there?”

Poison quickly looked away, cheeks turning as bright as his hair,

“Just hurry up. We ain't got all day.”

Jack glanced back as Poison unbuckled his belt and switched trousers with the driver, whistling softly to himself,

“Hoo, boy. You haven't changed a bit, have you? Still fit as ever--”

“Do you want me to shoot you,” Poison growled, zipping up the fly and swiping his clothes up from the dirt, “Cause I will. And I'll laugh.”

He tossed his things into the back of the van and grabbed a pair of body bags, dragging them around the side,

“C'mon. Let's put these guys up.”

“But won't they die if we do that?”

“Nah,” Poison said, tossing one to him, “I've taken a cat nap or two in one of these bad boys. They're actually pretty cozy. Besides, as soon as they wake up, they'll figure out what happened and climb out. It's perfectly safe.”

Jack nodded and stuffed the passenger into one of the bags, zipping it up with a sigh,  
“Well, then. Better make sure the kiddies are tucked in for a good night's sleep.”

Once finished dressing and disposing of the workers, Jack climbed into the van, glancing over at Poison as he stepped up to the driver's side door,

“So, this plan of yours? How do we get in without you being noticed? I mean... you're kind of a giveaway.”

He nodded to the man's hair. Poison shook his head,

“Let me worry about that. Just make sure your locked and loaded. This is gonna be one hell of a fire fight.”

Glancing back at the two body bags, Poison bit his lip and motioned to Jack,

“Hold up, I think one of them might be awake.”

Jack straightened and reached for his seat belt,

“Do you need me to--”

“No, I'll get it.”

He turned and walked over to the bags, glaring down at them darkly. He glanced over his shoulder at the van, making sure Jack was not watching him, and pulled out his gun.

Two shots welded the zippers of the bags shut, leaving them unable to be opened. Spitting on the bags with a snort, Poison snarled and shoved his gun back in it's holster,

“Burn in hell.”

He then turned back for the van and climbed into the driver's seat. Starting the engine, they headed on down the road toward the city, leaving the two bags in a cloud of dust and gravel.

 

~ø~

 

As they entered the tunnel, Poison nodded to Jack,

“There's a checkpoint at the end of this tunnel here. Check the glove compartment for ID.”

Jack nodded, popping it open to immediately find the license and registration, as well as a pure white mask bearing the iconic, smiling logo of BLI.

“Here, this might help with your face situation.”

“Ah, thanks,” Poison snorted, motioning to the wheel, “Take this while I put it on?”

Jack leaned over and grabbed the wheel, keeping the van going straight as Poison donned the cloth mask and tucked his fire-engine hair underneath it. Once finished, he took the wheel again and leaned back, grabbing the ID from him,

“Thanks.”

A few moments of silence reigned as they sped down the tunnel, and Jack cleared his throat,

“So, 2019, huh? Which was worse for you? Helium or Analog?”

Poison smirked,

“Well, the Helium War was more destructive to be sure. Left all of Cali with toxic air and acid rain. But the Analog War killed Netflix. Darkest time of my life. Hadn't even gotten around to seeing  _ The Martian _ , yet.”

“Oh, Matt Damon?”

“Hell, yeah. Had all his movies queued up and ready to watch with the guys when the Wipe hit. Then it was adiós. Nobody saved Private Ryan that day.”

“Damn, that's hard.”

“Tell me about it,” Poison shook his head, gripping the wheel tight, “Twitter, Tumblr, Grindr, I can live without those, but Netflix? Fuck, man. That one ate me alive.”

“Otherwise, you've been getting by pretty okay out here?”

Poison heaved a sigh and nodded,

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

After a moment's pause, he coughed and glanced over at Jack through the thin veil of fabric,

“So...what have you been up to?”

“You actually care?” Jack snorted.

“Not really. Just passing time.”

“Well,” the blue-eyed man coughed and pushed back against the seat, “Travel for one. I spent a few nights back-packing in Barcelona--”

“--Spain?”

“No, the planet,” Jack corrected, “The dogs have no noses there. It's a bit strange, but the whole place has got a nice vibe. Friendly locals. Excellent night life. Took a trip to  Alfava Metraxis to see their infamous Mazes of the Dead. There's lore that the statues representing the lost souls in the maze move around when you aren't looking at them. Boy, was I not prepared for that!”

“Statues that move when you aren't looking,” Poison said nervously, forcing a laugh, “You don't say.”

“Yeah. Anyway, after that, I somehow woke up in 1930s New York. Met a lovely couple there. Amy and Rory, I believe their names were. Gave me a ride to the hospital after hitting me with their car. Still not sure how I wound up in the middle of the street. After a few weeks there, I took a mental health day at The Eye of Orion. Went for a stay on Exxilon, before she was destroyed. One of the 700 wonders of the Universe, she was, before that. Took a cat nap on Obsidian, best sleep I've had in a while. Hit up Poosh and it's fabled Lost Moon, something yours truly had a handing in finding. Just wanted to check in on it, see how things were going. What a tourist trap that place became. Sheesh.”

“So, you're doin' pretty good, then. Keeping busy,” Poison said, squeezing the wheel as he glanced into the mirrors. Jack paused and bit his lip,

“Yeah. I guess. Travelling helps clear the head, you know? Not much responsibility in running away.”

“Tell me about it,” Poison breathed. Spotting the checkpoint ahead, he swallowed hard and readied the ID,

“Here we go.”

Pulling up to the booth, another figure with a smiling BLI mask stepped forward, alabaster rifle in hand,

“ID, please?”

Poison swallowed hard as he reached through the window and casually handed the card to the gatekeeper. The man inspected it for a few seconds, stepping back into the booth to process the ID number, then stepped back out and handed it back to him,

“You're good.”

With a grateful nod, Poison rolled up his window and stepped on the gas, pulling on down the tunnel. Jack smiled at that, glancing back in the mirror at the checkpoint,

“That was easy enough.”

“Security's pretty lax these days. Killjoys tend to stay out of the city, so they don't have a reason to worry about it.”

“Little do they know, they've got one headed straight for them, right now,” Jack said, glancing over at him with a smirk.

Poison smiled back, slamming on the gas as they sped deeper and deeper into the glittering city.

 

~ø~

 

The Director sighed as she watched through the glass, the crumpled heap that was Clara shivering and sobbing in the corner of the interrogation room. Shaking her head, she turned to her subordinate and sighed,

“I'm going to go check on the other prisoner. Keep an eye on her. If she talks, I want to know about it.”

She headed on down the hall and turned the corner toward the cell block.

 

~ø~

 

As they pulled up to the front of the parking garage, Poison turned to Jack and sighed,

“So, here's the plan. We split up, cover more ground. You go after Doc. I'll find Clara. We meet back at the TARDIS. You know which room it's located in?”

“It should be right where we left it,” Jack said, unstrapping his wristband, “17th floor. Janitorial closet. If they haven't moved it, of course. And just in case they have...”

He gently grabbed Party Poison's arm and pulled it close, wrapping the bracelet around his wrist,

“This is a Vortex Manipulator. I've already synced her up to the TARDIS. All you have to do is press this button right here, and it'll take you right to it.”

“Okay,” Poison nodded, glancing up into Jack's eyes, “Got it.”

His hand lingered for a moment, and the red head swallowed hard. There was a fluttering in his brain, like a bird trying to break free of it's cage, but the iron door would just not budge.

Jack leaned in, hot breath meeting Poison's cheek as he softly whispered,

“You be careful. Promise me that?”

“I don't need you to babysit me, Jack. I'm not a child--”

“No, you're not,” Jack sighed, brushing his fingers to the man's cheek, “And I don't plan on being your babysitter. I just want you safe.”

“Well, I'll be dead tomorrow, so I don't think that's somethin' you gotta worry about, right now,” Poison snorted, quickly breaking away from his gaze as he opened the door and climbed out.

A small room nearby housed a plethora of weapons, which he raided happily. Jack stepped in behind him, and let out a whistle,

“Ooh, boy, are these antiques! I think my 15th great grandfather used to own some of these,” he smiled, picking up a stark white ray gun. Poison raised an eyebrow,

“15th? How far in the future are you from?”

“25th century,” Jack grinned, “Why? There a problem?”

“Nah,” Poison laughed, shaking his head as he slung a couple rifles across his back, “No problem. Just realising I'm a cradle robber by at least 400 years, that's all.”

They then marched to the elevator, and Jack grinned,

“Well, lucky for you, I've got a thing for older men.”

They both laughed as they stepped inside, the doors closing behind them.

 

~ø~

 

“And so I told her, 'No, Clara! You can't just ask someone why they're a cactus!' But did she listen to me? No! And that is how you do not make friends with a Vinvocci--”

“I grow tired of these games, Doctor,” Korse growled, slamming his palms against the table, “Tell me what I wish to know!”

“Well, I would if you gave me a few hints,” the Doctor sighed, rolling his eyes, “I'm not a psychic, you know. Though I have met one once. Her name was Maya. Lovely girl. Lived on Pink Station Zero, I think. 30th century. I should go back and say 'hello' sometime...”

“The TARDIS. How does it work? Where is it?”

The Doctor sat up a bit, and shook his head,

“Oh, that's all? Well, here let me show you something.”

He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his coat pocket and offered them to the bald man. Korse raised an eyebrow,

“What are those?”

“Sunglasses infused with sonic technology. Just put these on, and it'll show you everything you want to know.”

Reluctantly, Korse inspected the shades and slowly slid them onto his face, a frown setting in,

“I don't see anything. How does it work?”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, quickly pulling his screwdriver from his pocket, “Just wait. One second.”

He aimed the glasses at the shades and with a flick of his wrist, a loud popping sound filled the air, and Korse fell to the floor shaking with volts.

The Doctor smiled as he stood then and plucked the shades from the bald man's face. He blew them off, then looked them over a bit before putting them on,

“Sonic shades. You know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea...”

Stepping over the shivering Exterminator, he headed for the door and hurried down the hall.

 

~ø~

 

As the elevator doors opened, Jack turned to Poison, and offered a nod,

“Good luck, Mikey-boy,” he said.

“You, too,” Poison replied, heading down the opposite hall. He kept a hand steady on the trigger of his rifle as he marched down the bright, white corridor, boots clacking against the pristine tiles. His heart was racing. He was sure Clara could fend for herself, she was tougher than he was, but with the knowledge of what was coming for him tomorrow....he couldn't help but worry.

He took to the stairwell, climbing a few flights to the 20th floor. He'd been up here once upon a time, when told by Gravel Gertie that a baby of very high importance had been born there and she needed to be rescued. That baby was Girl. Her mother had been clinging to life when they'd found them. Floor 20. Shoved into an interrogation room. The mother was strapped to a table, I.Vs dripping and delirious. She'd begged them to take the baby back to her father, but had died before saying who that was. She'd left only one clue, a clue that to this day, Poison had not been able to verify.

“ _Dee....”_

And she'd looked right at him when she'd said it. Her face had had a look of recognition, that he supposed in her delirium, made her believe that it was 'Dee' who had come to her rescue. Thinking back on it now, the woman had looked awfully familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where he knew her from.

Rounding the corner, he spotted a sentry in another white cloth mask standing outside the interrogation room door. With a deep breath, he marched forward and straightened his back.

The sentry spotted him and he tensed, but they only nodded,

“Shift change already?” they said.

Clearing his throat, he relaxed his grip on the gun and shrugged,

“Yep. Boss's orders.”

Glancing through the window, he swallowed hard. Clara sat huddled in the corner, facing away from him with her head pressed against the wall.

The sentry did not put up a protest, and instead, simply handed him the keys and headed on down the hallway. The moment he'd disappeared, Poison scrambled for the door, unlocking it with shaking hands and burst into the interrogation room. He tossed off his mask and ran to the cowering woman's side, kneeling down beside her,

“Clara!! Clara, you okay!?”

She was whimpering and her entire body trembled at the touch of his hand. He swallowed hard. He couldn't see her face,

“Clara?”

With a sudden twitch of her arm, Clara shot up from the floor, and Poison sprung away from her, eyes wide in shock as she let out an unearthly shriek. She spun around and his heart stopped. There was a reason he couldn't see her face. It was hidden behind a stark-white vampire mask.

She let out another scream and barrelled right for him, backing him into the two-sided mirror. He gasped as she reached up suddenly and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tight,  
“No, no, no, Clara, no--!”

She continued to squeeze and shriek at him, strangling him with gorilla-like strength. He cursed, trying to pry her away as gently as possible, but it was no use. His vision was going out. He couldn't breathe.

Perhaps tomorrow would be here sooner than he thought...

 


	11. Only Love Can Hurt Like This

    “Doctor? Doctor!”

Jack hissed, slowly edging his way down the hall. So far, there was no sign of the man anywhere. As he tiptoed toward the stairwell, he paused briefly and glanced around. On a wall nearby, he noticed a wanted poster and stepped over to it. Party Poison's face was displayed proudly upon the paper, with a bright red X over top. He grinned,

“Well, well...look at you. A wanted criminal with a poster and everything.”

Tearing the picture down, he folded it up and placed it in his coat pocket,

“Save that for later.”

“Jack? Is that you?”

Jack spun around, confusion on his face at the sound of the Doctor's voice,

“Doctor? Where are you?”

“Look up!”

    He jumped as the nearby air shaft popped open and the Doctor poked his head out,

“Hello!”

“What on Earth are you doing up there?”

“Well, how else would I get around without anyone noticing?”

“I don't know,” Jack shrugged, motioning to himself, “Maybe a disguise?”

“And what fun would _that_ be?” the Doctor scowled, shaking his head, “I've many a fond memory crawling about the vents. Just ask Sarah Jane.”

    “Oh, no, I believe you,” Jack snorted.

They were interrupted by a high-pitched shrieking, and Jack looked up, eyes wide,

“Could that be...?”

The Doctor tensed, climbing back up into the vent,

“Clara!”

 

    ~ø~

 

    “Clara...! Clara, stop...!”

Poison gagged as she continued to shriek and howl, her vice-like grip growing tighter by the second. He couldn't hold out much longer. Scrambling for his gun, he swallowed hard, still trying to push her away,

“Don't make me do this...please...don't make me do this!”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. She continued her fit, unaware of his words, unaware he was even there.

He was certain she didn't even know what she was doing.

    Pulling the gun up to her chest, he cocked it and placed a finger on the trigger,

“Clara...please...!”

He swallowed hard. It was no use. He'd have to put her down.

A tear hit his eye as he gazed into the gaping, black sockets of the Draculoid mask, and with a sniffle, he pressed the nozzle to her heart,

“I'm sorry...I'm so sorry....”

A trembling finger squeezed at the trigger.

    “DON'T YOU EVEN DARE.”

A familiar buzzing sound soon filled the interrogation room and Clara immediately let go. She ran to the other end of the room and cowered back down in the corner as Poison slid to the floor, gasping for air. He glanced up as the Doctor popped down from the ceiling and into his line of sight. He looked angry,

“I understand you've a nasty habit of shooting your friends, Michael, but if you're so trigger happy look to the Exterminators circling like vultures outside. Clara's off limits--”

“Doc, I didn't--”

“I don't want to hear it,” the Doctor shrieked, striding over to her, “Not another word from you!”

    Kneeling down beside her, the Doctor waved the screwdriver at her again and shook his head,

“We need to get her out of here. Quickly. Before they come back.”

“Doctor!”

Jack came barrelling into the room seconds later, rifle at the ready, and glanced around,

“What's going on?”

He spotted Party Poison sitting on the floor and rushed to him, kneeling down,

“Are you all right?”

Poison managed a nod, but little else.

    “There's no doubt the guards heard that commotion,” the Doctor said, glancing back at Jack, “Come on. Help me get her back to the TARDIS.”

Jack helped Poison to his feet and they both started over to help. Seeing the red head, the Doctor snarled,

“Not you. I don't want you anywhere near her, you've done enough!”

“Doctor,” Jack pressed, glancing back at Poison,

“He has the Vortex Manipulator--”

“Well, take it from him then,” the Doctor shouted, waving him away, “He can _walk_ back to the desert for all I care.”

“Doctor, be reasonable--”

    “I am being reasonable,” the Doctor said, helping the entranced Clara to her feet, “Hell, I'm being generous! If I were to do what I wanted to do, right now, there'd be nothing left of him for us to converse with.”

He handed Clara to Jack and stomped right up to Poison's face, glaring him in the eye,

“I'll give you a lift, this one last time. But after that I want you gone. For good. Do we understand each other?”

Poison nodded shortly,

“Yeah.”

Jack put an arm around Poison's shoulder then and the Doctor grabbed hold of the cuff of Jack's coat.

“Well,” he said, looking annoyed and disgusted at being in Poison's vicinity, “Let's get on with it, then. Back to the TARDIS.”

Poison glanced sheepishly over at the unconscious Clara, then over at Jack. He could see the pity in the man's eyes. Bowing his head, he pressed the button on the wristband and felt an electric charge tingle through his whole body as the four of them were transported away from the interrogation room.

    Moments later, Madam Director came rushing back to the room, a team of Exterminators at her heels. She cursed upon seeing it empty, the table flipped and the chairs tossed aside.

“Where is Fillmore?”

“He left his post ma'am,” another Exterminator said, checking the tablet in her grasp, “About ten minutes ago. Reported a shift change.”

“I ordered no such thing,” the Director hissed, spinning around. She pulled a walkie-talkie from her waistband and brought it to her lips,

“Korse. Report to the Board Room, now. This ends tonight. We're taking the asset back.”

 

    ~ø~

 

    The TARDIS whooshed and whirled through space to the constant sound of a shrill and painful shrieking, a sound that Party Poison had become all too familiar within the course of his life after the Fires. It was the sound conversion, of corruption and deletion. It had happened to so many of his friends, people he had once loved like family. In fact, it had _happened_ to his family. And now, it was happening to Clara.

She sounded so scared. She was in pain, he could hear it.

Listening to her scream, he felt himself going mad. Maybe he could have stopped this, if only he'd been there. He wouldn't have ever let Doc drag her into Batt City, anyway. This was entirely his fault. He clamped his hands over his ears. His head was throbbing with each hiccup and cry she made. He could only take so much of it.

So much before it drove him insane.

    “You.”

He jumped upon hearing the Doctor's voice, distant and cold and unforgiving.

“Jack tells me you know how these masks work,” he continued, and Poison nodded silently.

“Then, start talking. I need to know how to get it off of her.”

Party Poison shook his head and snorted softly,

“You're joking, right?”

“Of course not. Why would I joke about a thing like that?”

“Doc,” Poison said, spotting Jack in the doorway behind him, “There is no _'getting it off'_. It's over. Clara's dust.”

    The Doctor shook his head, stomping over to him with an annoyed smirk,  
“You don't get it, do you? I'm being kind here, letting you hitch a ride home, the least you could possibly do is help me figure out a way to get her back--”

“And that's what _you_ don't get,” Poison shouted, voice beginning to crack as he motioned to the hall in which her screaming echoed from, “There _is_ no way! I've lived this story out, Doc! I know how it ends! Once that mask goes on, there's no taking it off! Ever. It's over--”

“Not for Clara, it isn't,” the Doctor stated, turning away and stepping toward the console.

“THAT FREAKSHOW ISN'T CLARA ANYMORE,” Poison protested, now on the verge of tears, “Everything she was? Everything she would'a been? That mask stole it away. She's part of the system, now. One of the Hive. Clara. Is. Dead.”

“One more word,” the Doctor snapped, charging over to him, one finger extended, “One more word and I kick you out those doors and into whatever time stream we happen to be flying passed. You could wind up in the Prehistoric Era. The American Civil War. Hell, you could wind up in the 30 th  century, on a planet you've never even heard of, I don't give a damn. One more word, Michael. I suggest you tread carefully.”

Party Poison silenced at that, and shaking his head, he turned and headed down the hall away from them.

    Clara's screams grew louder, echoed further as he marched, down and down through the long corridor, hands covering his ears. It grew harder to ignore. Very soon he was blindly sprinting down the hall, doing anything and everything to try and escape it. But it was no use.

She was louder than ever.

Staggering into what appeared to be a library, he collapsed beside the pool, hands digging into his head as he squeezed his eyes shut,

“Stop...stop!!”

    The memory of the night he had first returned to the ruins of L.A from the zones flickered in his brain like a light bulb with a short. The place had been surrounded by BLI vans. He'd climbed in through a second story window in the back. He could hear his grandfather pleading with the Exterminators. He'd sounded so desperate.

“ _Please, we're telling the truth! We don't know where Michael is! Neither of us has seen him since the Fires--”_

“ _Your grandson is a wanted man, Mr. Milligram. I find it hard to believe that you didn't know.”_

“ _Wanted? Wanted for what!? What has he done!?”_

“ _He's accused of evading our authority with a band of rogues know as the Killjoys. Their stronghold appears to be in the forbidden zones.”_

 _“My son is out wandering all by himself in a poisonous desert and you want to accuse him of criminal activity!?”_ his mother shrieked, _“What kind of monsters are you!? Why can't you just bring him home!?”_

    He'd slowly inched down the hall toward the stairwell, and peered down into the living room. His heart lurched as spotted the men aiming guns at his family. One stepped forward, a woman with short, black hair, in a grey suit,

“Believe us, ma'am. We will do everything in our power to bring your son to justice. We only require your full cooperation...”

With a wave of her hand, two men dressed in white stepped forward and grabbed his mother and grandfather by either arm, holding them in place. Two more appeared, each one holding a Dracula mask. He stepped up to the bannister as the men approached them, holding the masks out in front of them. His mother screamed and cried as they put it on her, body trembling violently as she tried to break free,

“No, please! We didn't do anything wrong!! I just...I just want my son! I want my baby!! Please!!”

    As they set the masks on them, his mother and grandfather fell to their knees, screaming and sobbing violently in agony. The woman in grey turned to look at the stairs, as if sensing he was standing there, and he swallowed hard. Quickly, he darted for his parents' room, scrambling to the window. He paused briefly, spotting an old jacket in a glass case on the wall. His great grandfather's old WWII jacket. It was a family heirloom, and in the event of his grandfather's death, it was meant to be his. He rushed over to it, breaking it free of the glass, and escaped through the windows as a hail of laser bullets came whizzing toward him.

That jacket had been the last semblance of family he had. And tucked safely within it's folds was the journal of the man he had never known. His great grandfather. He could remember reading it under the irradiated night sky, the stars twinkling through the smog as the bombs and guns went off, and he and the guys hid out in burned out shelters, doing their best to avoid the fight for as long as humanly possible. He'd felt a connection to those entries unlike any he'd ever felt before. He assumed it had been because of the wars, very similar in experience.

Little did he realise then, that it was because they were in his own hand.

    Hearing Clara's cries brought back every aspect of those horrible nights, hiding out in hopes they wouldn't be found, watching the conversion happen again and again to his those who couldn't run away fast enough. It was the whole reason why he didn't get attached, why he knew commitments were pointless. Out in the desert you could be dusted in a second, no time for goodbyes, no second chances. Or worse, you'd be turned into one of _them_.

He sat back on the floor and held his head in his hands, unable to hold it in any longer. All the years of running and fighting and hiding...the memories he could no longer suppress, all of it came rushing to the surface in one torrential downpour. He punched at the floor, grit his teeth and screamed, pulled at his hair. None of it helped. The tears only flooded faster. It became real to him, that everything that had ever mattered to him in his entire life, all the friends and family, all the people he'd ever loved...

His mother and father. His grandfather.

Go-Go. Fun Ghoul. Jet Star. Kobra Kid.

Jack. The Doctor. Clara.

Ben. Pete. Bev.

Girl.

He only stood to lose them. Each and every one.

    The sound of footsteps, distant at first, but quickly drawing closer met his ears. He didn't look up. He couldn't look up. He knew who it was, the only person it could be, and he didn't want him seeing him this way.

Feeling the squeeze of a pair of strong arms around him, he tried to curb his cries and keep his blubbering at bay, but it was already far too late for that. Jack shushed him, holding him tight as he rocked him, gently back and forth,

“There, there, Mikey-boy. It'll be all right. I'm here. Lean on me.”

He shook his head, but Jack pressed on, brushing a hand over his hair,

“You don't have to hold it all inside, it's okay. I know too well what it's like to try and hold the whole world up on your shoulders. Believe me, it's not a weight you want to carry by yourself. I know from experience...”

They sat for a while at the edge of the pool, Poison's sobs continuing as Clara's shrieking dragged on and on, until finally, the two of them had tired themselves out, and the TARDIS fell eerily silent.

    After a few moments had passed, Poison pulled away from Jack and rubbed his eyes, exhausted,

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Jack said immediately, “You've obviously been needing that for a long time.”

Poison smirked,

“Yeah...it's about 12 years overdue. Give or take.”

Jack sighed as he watched the man get up and walk across the room toward the book shelves nearby,

“Have you talked to someone about it?”

“What part?”

    “All of it,” Jack pressed, “Wars don't come without side effects.”

“I don't get side effects--”

“ _Everyone_ gets side effects,” Jack shot back.

“Even the Doctor,” Poison snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I'd say he has about 2000 years of experience with side effects, yeah.”

“Even _you_?”

Jack swallowed hard. He said nothing.

    Poison snorted again, and shook his head, slapping a hand to the bookshelf,

“Tell me to open up when you won't open up yourself. Real nice, Harkness. Way to make a guy feel comfortable.”

He started down the aisles, Jack following after him.

“You know, we're a lot alike, you and me. We have a nasty habit of trying to protect others from our pain. We bottle it up, keep it to ourselves. And when no one's looking? Pop! It all comes bubbling out like an overflowing bottle of champagne. It's not healthy, Mike. It doesn't have to be that way.”

“Oh, it doesn't, does it?” Poison laughed, spinning on his heel to face the blue-eyed soldier,

“Then tell me...who do you talk to? When you close your eyes at night and you see your brother-in-law getting shot in the face by a sniper's rifle? When you see kids stepping on land mines, when their guts and their body parts go flying? When you can smell the blood and the piss and the shit on a salty breeze, who do you run to? Who do you call? When you remember your wife died before you ever really knew her, when you realise your son grew up hating your guts 'cause he thinks you ran out on him in some kind of manic fit, when in reality you didn't have a choice! And you can never tell him the truth, 'cause not only would he never believe you, but he'd have you locked up and drugged and you'd be back in the same goddamn boat you were in before! Forgetting everything and everybody you care about! Forgetting who you even are!! What did you do to get by when you had to live through the end of the world not once but twice over? Huh? Tell me, who do you go to for that? And now...knowing that all of your friends are going to die because of you? Please, give me the name of your therapist, I'd like to see how qualified she is--”

    “You're not in this alone, Mikey-boy,” Jack said, shaking his head, “You can talk to me. I'm here. I'll listen.”

“And say what!?” Poison shrieked, heading back toward the poolside, “Say what, Jack!? Say what to a man that I can' t even remember!? Who's memory they burned out of my brain!? What would I say!? That I-I can't sleep at night because when I close my eyes all I see are ashes!? That I see flames, that I see...people I love dying!? Everyone around me is a ghost. Sooner or later. Hell, I even bite the big one tomorrow, so really, what's the point of drudging all this up, now!? I'll be dust in about 20 hours. Maybe that's for the best--”

“Don't say that,” Jack shouted, storming right over to him, “Don't you ever say that--”

“Why not? It's true,” Poison breathed, gazing straight at the water, “I'll be dust. The guys'll be dust. Maybe that's why I do it, you know...? Maybe that's why I lead them there...”

He forced a laugh, tears coming to his eyes as he looked up at Jack,

“Do you ever just get so tired....you want everything to stop? All the fighting and the running away just gets to you...and you just want the noise to stop?”

He glanced back at the doorway at hearing Clara's strangled sobs again coming from another part of the ship.

    Biting his lip, he pointed toward the sound and turned to Jack with a forced grin,

“She made it stop. And now....she's gone. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Jack stepped forward and grabbed Poison by the shoulders. Licking his lips, he offered a smile,

“Tell her.”

Party Poison snorted, and shook his head,

“What good would it do? She won't hear me--”

“She doesn't have to,” Jack stated, “Just say it. For your own sake.”

    Nodding shortly, Poison pulled away and started back for the door, Jack calling after him,

“And Mikey-boy?”

He turned back as he reached the entryway, raising an eyebrow as Jack offered a smile,

“If you want to talk later...I'm here for you.”

“Thanks,” Poison sighed, turning away slowly.

He trudged back down the hall, following the soft, echoing sobs to a tall, steel door a short walk away.

 

    ~ø~

 

    She laid on the scuffed, tile floor at the centre of the shopping mall, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she glanced around. So long as she was quiet and did not move, the mannequins couldn't find her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her forehead to the ground as she stifled her sobs, her voice a hoarse whisper,

“Please....somebody help me...please...!”

“ _Girly?”_

Clara jumped as she heard a loud knocking over the mall's loud speaker, her heart beginning to race as she raised her head toward the sky,

“Doctor?”

No. It wasn't the Doctor, she thought. The voice was younger, smoother, and not nearly as sad as the Doctor's.

Rising to her feet, she followed the knocking, a smile creeping onto her lips.

Party Poison.

 

    ~ø~

 

    With a hard swallow, Party Poison pressed a hand to the metal panelling and rested an ear against the door,

“H-Hey...Girly? Can you hear me in there?”

At first, there was nothing, just the soft sound of sniffling coming from behind it. He carefully tapped a finger to the metal, and whispered again,

“Clara?”

A sudden bang against the door, followed by shrieking and howling made him leap across the hall, and he pressed his back against the opposite wall. The banging and wailing lasted only a few moments, though, devolving into hiccuping sobs.

Cautiously, he stepped back over to the door and sat down at the base of it, legs stretched across the narrow passage way,

“I know you're scared...I know. So am I...”

 

    ~ø~

 

    “Why are you scared!?” Clara shrieked at the voice, shaking her head, “You're not the one trapped in here!”

She turned back, hearing a footstep. The store looked clear, no mannequins in sight. She swallowed hard,

“Wherever _here_ is...”

“ _I really don't know what to say or...what to do anymore...I don't even know where to begin...”_

 

    ~ø~

 

    “The first thing I learned out here...is that no matter what, you're on your own,” Poison swallowed hard. He rubbed at the rosary, biting his lip,

“Even with the guys...even with Girl. I'm alone. My experiences are mine. I live alone. I die alone. And it's best not to get too attached to the idea of _not_ being alone. So, when I got sent back, you know...and I found Bev...I got comfortable...I got careless. You see, people like me, we put up these iron walls around our hearts...suck the blood dry and make ourselves anaemic just to keep others from getting too close. Bev broke my wall, Girly...she set off a bomb and fucking obliterated it, and losing her...”

He trailed off, lip beginning to quiver as a lump developed in his throat,

“I had to unlearn it. I had to undo everything she did. I had to make sure nobody ever got that close to me, again...but then you showed up.”

 

    ~ø~

 

_“And you just had to be a teacher, didn't you?”_

Clara giggled at that and pressed her cheek to the wall, tears in her eyes.

“ _I bet your kids are all on the honour roll, too...”_

“They'd better be,” she smiled, swallowing hard.

“ _Shit, this isn't easy for me to say, Girly...but then, when has anything ever been easy for me...?”_

 

    ~ø~

 

    Craning his head back against the door, he listened to her sobs for a moment or two, then sighed,

“I missed you...when you were gone. Even though it was only a week—well...for me, it was a week. For you it was what...like a year? Isn't that what you said? A whole year. Probably forgot all about me...hell, why would I have mattered anyway? You and Doc were just passing through...just another day on the TARDIS for you.”

He hesitated.

“But it wasn't that way for me. There was something about you that I just couldn't put my finger on...something that made me feel...”

 

    ~ø~

 

_“Human.”_

Clara bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

“ _You probably didn't feel it.”_

“No,” she shook her head quickly, slapping her palm against the wall, “No, you're wrong! I did feel it!! I did!! I--!!”

She stopped. He couldn't hear her, anyway.

Why waste her breathe, now?

“ _When you left, I got worse...things got bad. The nightmares started...and the visions. I started having flashbacks. Of the war...of the Fires. And I can't escape them...!”_

 

    ~ø~

 

    “One of these days, it's gonna catch up,” Poison whispered, “It's all gonna catch up to me. How much you wanna bet that day is tomorrow?”

He forced a laugh and wiped his eyes, heaving a sigh,

“I wish things could'a been different. I wish I could'a met you sooner. Maybe we could have...”

Coughing shortly, he cleared his throat and fiercely shook his head,

“But you deserve the world and I could never give that to you...I know that. That was stupid.”

 

    ~ø~

 

    Clara bit her lip, smiling brightly as tears streamed down her face,

“Party Poison...”

“ _I just...should you get out of this somehow, Girly, I want you to be careful. I know all too well how danger can go straight to your head. The rush is incredible, and you feel so alive. It's like a need. You start to crave it. And before you know it...you're hooked.”_

 

    ~ø~

 

    “It's an addiction....I can see what it's doing to you, and personally? It's not you. This person you're becoming when you're with him? It's not who you are. You care about people. You're not just a passenger along for the ride, you're the driver. You've got the keys to your own destiny, don't just sit there and let him take the wheel. Clara, if you can hear me at all, if you understand what I'm saying? Don't lose your humanity. Hold on to who you are.”

 

    ~ø~

 

_“And get out. Get out before it's too late.”_

Clara swallowed hard at that, her eyes wide. The presence that his voice had made slipped away as silence reigned throughout the mall, and she shook her head,

“No...no! Come back! Party Poison, come back! Please!”

She beat a fist against the wall, running up and down the stretch as if searching for a door,

“Come back!! Please don't leave me!!”

She heard a rack squeak behind her and immediately halted. Heart frozen, she slowly turned to see a trio of mannequins now stood a few feet behind her. They lifted their arms, guns protruding from their hands as they began to march toward her. She shook her head frantically, and scrambled away, nearly tripping as she went,

“No, please...stay away. Stay away!!”

 

    ~ø~

 

    Party Poison jumped as she began screaming again, but did not move. Instead, he leaned back against the door and closed his eyes, listening to each thump and holler, each strangled cry she made while the mask reprogrammed her, erased every bit of who she was. The sound of footsteps approaching drew his attention and he glanced up through blurry eyes. There stood the Doctor, dark scowl on his face.

"I've located your car. Get ready to jump out. You can drive back," he said curtly. He then turned and headed back to the console.

With a sigh, Poison stood up and dusted himself off. Glancing back at the door one last time, he brushed his knuckles against the steel and swallowed hard,

"Goodbye, Girly."


	12. Down The Rabbit Hole

 

    Party Poison stepped out of the TARDIS with a sigh, and glanced around, shaking his head as he turned back to the Doctor,

"So, what's your plan? How are you gonna get the Daleks away from Earth?"

"Oh, rest assured, _Party Poison_ ," the Doctor snarled, "This planet is under my protection. You won't have to run and cower away from them like you do everything else."

"Doc—"

"Save it," the Doctor said, his voice cold and eyes like ice, "I may have been blinded before, by your rock and roll spirit and your devil may care attitude, but not now. You won't fool me again."

    The Doctor stepped back and began to shut the door, only to stop when Poison rushed forward and put his hand in the way,

"How do you plan on saving Clara? Doc, she's one of them, now--"

"You don't have to act like you care. It doesn't suit you."

"And being _careless_ don't suit _you_ ," Poison snipped back, clenching his fists, "What happened to the guy that actually gave a shit?"

"Don't talk to me about giving a shit," the Doctor seethed, shoving the red head back from the ship, "I've given more shits than your entire race has ever made put together--!"

    "Oooh," Poison snickered, beginning to smirk, "Language, Doc! Language! Where'd you get that potty mouth, eh?"

The Doctor eyed him up and down, teeth grinding in annoyance,

"Suppose I picked it up from someone...a rotten egg in a dying desert."

"Rotten egg?" Poison winced, nodding shortly, "Doc, you flatter me."

The Doctor rolled his eyes at that and stormed away,  
"Goodbye, _Party Poison_."

    Poison shook his head, calling after him,

"Doc, wait!"

"What is it, now," the Doctor growled, turning back as he reached the doorway, "I'm a very busy man. I've got a whole world to save."

Reaching into his jacket, Poison pulled out his flip phone and waved it at the man,

"Figure you want this back, right?"

He tossed it to the Doctor, who failed to put a hand out to catch it. Instead, it hit the dirt with a clack and skidded to the man's feet.

    The Doctor shook his head,

"Keep it," he said, stepping back inside the TARDIS, "Use it to order a pizza or something."

He slammed the door shut behind him. The wind picked up as the TARDIS began to dematerialise, and Poison covered his eyes from the dust, looking back only once things had settled. The box was gone, his phone laying next to the vacant, square-shaped indentation where it once had stood. Licking his lips, he trudged over and scooped it up from the sand. He then headed back to his car, glancing back one last time before pulling away.

In all likelihood, that was probably the last time he'd ever see that damned, blue box...

 

~ø~

 

    Jack sighed as he reached the console room, watching the Doctor round the switchboard,

"Did you have to be so hard on him?"

The Doctor paused and shook his head,

"Me? He nearly shot Clara to death, and mine's the throat you're jumping down?"

"He was defending himself," Jack insisted, shaking his head, "He didn't know what else to do."

    "Well, he shot his friend in the gut once, did he ever tell you about that," the Doctor shot back, "Called it 'helping'..."

"I'm sure he's shot a lot of people he once thought were his friends," Jack pressed, "Just as I'm sure you've done in the past--"

"Don't," the Doctor snapped, wagging his finger forcefully at the soldier, "Don't you ever compare him to me! We are not anywhere remotely the same!"

"Oh no, of course not," Jack shrugged, folding his arms, "I _definitely_ don'tsee a resemblance."

"I'm not a fan of sarcasm, Jack," the Doctor scowled darkly, "If you've got something to say, then say it. Don't beat around the bush about it."

Jack watched silently as the Doctor circled the console a few more times, flipping more switches and pecking at the controls. Finally, he cleared his throat,

"Mike's in love with Clara."

    The Doctor stopped midstep. Spinning around, he snorted and began to smirk,

"Love? Oh, please! Michael doesn't love anyone but himself, or haven't you been paying attention?"

" _I_ have," Jack said, sighing as he watched the Doctor head back down the hall toward Clara's room, "Clearly, you're the one who's blind, here."

The Doctor stepped right up to the door and sighed, placing a hand directly on it. He could hear Clara crying just inside, still sobbing and whimpering like she had been since they left the city.

"Oh, Clara," he breathed, "My Clara...tell me what to do. How do I help you? How?"

 

~ø~

 

    Kobra Kid frowned as he glanced out from the windows of the Diner to see a white, graffiti-coated van coming up the road. He hurried out to meet it, recognising it as Hot Chimp's. As it came to a stop, the side door opened, and Dr. Death Defying hobbled out, leaning his full weight on his aluminum cane as Show Pony scrambled to unload his chair. Kid frowned,

"D? What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"Hot news from the wire," D said, grunting as Show Pony helped him take a seat, "Got some pigs on they're way here, hope you're ready for a fire fight. They're comin' for your motorbaby."

Kid cursed, at that and ran a hand up through his hair,

"Shit..."

    "Where's my Red Devil at?" D nodded, wheeling passed him toward the Diner, "There's something I need to tell him..."

"He's not here," the blonde shrugged, shaking his head, "I haven't seen him in hours. Not since the Doctor dropped him off and he drove back out to Hyperthrust."

"Hyperthrust?" D shook his head, "They boarded that place up weeks ago, why the damn hell would he go there?"

"I don't know. Blow off steam, probably," Kid snorted, "Or maybe his name was _Steve_. Who knows why he does what he does anymore!"

Kid began pacing, his motions frantic,  
"D, there's no way we can hunker this place down in time! They'll tear it clear apart! We don't have the ammo! We don't have the man power! We're sitting ducks here!"

    With a sigh, D, motioned to the woman in the driver's seat and she sprung out, hurrying to them,

"What is it?"

"Help the boys gather up everything they need and take 'em to my station till the coast is clear. We'll be sure to relocate later."

She nodded shortly and followed Kid into the Diner. Hearing the sound of engines coming up the road, Dr. Death Defying swallowed hard and called to the others,

"Hurry it up in there!"

    Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid came out first, carrying a trunk of what looked to be full of weaponry, followed by Jet Star, who had Girl in his arms. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, and yawned,

"Where are we going?"

"Some place safe," Jet Star said, "Don't you worry."

"Where's Poison?" she asked, looking around in confusion, "Is he coming, too?"

He looked to the other two, then to Dr. Death Defying. The man shook his head.

"Y-yeah," Jet squeaked as he sat her down in the back, "He's meeting us there."

She glanced back at D and frowned,

"Aren't you coming?"

    Dr. Death Defying offered a smile and wheeled forward toward the van,

"No, Sweet Pea...I'm gonna stay here and make sure you all get away safe and sound."

"Are you crazy!?" she shrieked, "Those guys'll fucking ghost your ass!"

D laughed at that and tousled her hair, swallowing hard,

"Not yet, they won't. Besides, I've got my legs right here," he looked to Show Pony and smiled,

"He'll keep me running at optimum levels."

"He'd better," she said, scowling at the scantily clad man. Show Pony stood up straight and saluted at that.

    Sighing deeply, Girl reached out and put her arms around Dr. D's neck,

"Be careful, okay? Don't get dusted."

"Will do, little mama."

Setting her back in the van, D shut the door behind her and patted the metal panel. At the signal, Hot Chimp immediately started the van and sped on down the dusty road as the cruisers came flying up over the distant hill. Dr. Death Defying swallowed hard, snarling as he wheeled himself back toward the Diner,

"Pony, get my bug zapper. Let's show these roaches to their motel room..."

 

~ø~

 

    "So," Jack began, circling the console as the Doctor came back into the room, "Any change in Miss Oswald?"

"None, unfortunately," the Doctor scowled, shaking his head, "Whatever is powering that mask has a strong hold on her."

"Mike said something about the city's electricity," Jack said, leaning on the dash, "That all of the Draculoids are uploaded to the city's servers. It's how the ones stationed out in the zones get their orders."

"Everything comes through the mask, you say?" the Doctor bit his lip, "The mask is connected to the servers..."

    He nodded, waving a finger in the air,

"Good, I know exactly what to do, then."

"You do?"

"Of course I do, it's very simple," the Doctor grinned over at him, "We're going to cause a little mischief, you and I."

"Oh, Doctor," Jack smirked, eyebrows peaking, "I thought you'd never--"

"And by a little mischief, I mean a citywide power outtage."

    The soldier sighed and nodded,

"Of course, that's what you meant."

He watched the Doctor head over to the monitor, and hopped up, following him closely,

"And the Dalek warship? What are we gonna do about it? Shut off all the lights on planet Earth and hope it doesn't see us?"

"Well, that's one idea."

"Seriously," Jack said, hands on his hips, "We need a plan of attack."

    "Well, that's definitely _not_ what we'll be doing."

"Then, what will we be doing, Doctor? That ship should be here any second!"

"But it isn't."

The Doctor straightened and shook his head, smacking the monitor once or twice,

"I don't understand. Where is it? Where's the ship?"

    Jack to the handle of the screen and pulled it toward him,

"Let me have a look."

Sure enough, the radar map was void of any incoming entities. He straightened,

"That can't be right...it would be right here," he pointed to a section of the grid, "At the rate of speed it was going. Right here, just 20 miles out from Earth."

"But it isn't there. Something's happened to it," the Doctor breathed, swallowing hard.

    Jack shook his head,

"I don't understand, though. How could a Dalek warship of that magnitude just vanish out of thin air? What could do that?"

"I don't know," the Doctor tensed, "The very same thing that could make off with an entire continent full of people, I suppose."

"You think whatever did this is responsible for Australia?"

"No, I don't think," the Doctor said, gazing directly at the screen, "I _know_ it is."

 

~ø~

 

    Poison frowned as he rolled up to the Diner, eyes wide as he spotted the S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W unit car parked just out front. Swallowing hard, he grabbed his gun from the passenger's seat and clambered quickly out of the car. Slowly, he crept toward the door, gun out, locked and loaded. With a hard swallow, he peeked around the corner into the Diner. Two Dracs were inside, ganging up on a chairless Dr. Death Defying. It seemed that they'd thrown him out of it, as said chair was still sitting, vacant in the doorway. Where was Show Pony?

"Tell us where the asset is, old man," one of them chortled, "And we might let you go...with a little ray rash, of course..."

D, holding himself up on the bar counter, remained defiantly silent.

    Aggravated, one of the Dracs grabbed the DJ by the lapels of his jacket and yanked him away from the bar, dragging him to a booth. He slammed him against the back of the seat, bending him backwards as he got right in his face,

"Spill it!! Where is she!?"

"Hey," Poison shouted, barging inside. He shot the Drac by the bar first, then went for the one attacking D. The Drac looked up at the shout, just in time to receive a laser between it's vacant eyes. It fell to the ground, dropping D in the process. The DJ hit the floor with a thud and a groan, and Poison hurried over to him,

"D! Here, gimme your hand, I'll help you up--"

He reached out to grab the man's arm, just as D grabbed the Drac's gun. He zapped Poison's hand and the younger man yelped, quickly drawing back,

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck was that for!?"

    "Keep your hands to yourself, boy! You lost your damn mind!?"

"No," Poison seethed, shaking his hand out as it continued to burn and tingle, "But I'm pretty sure _you_ have!"

Show Pony appeared in the doorway then, quickly gliding to D's side, and helped him into one of the booths. D nodded shortly,

"Thanks, Pony."

Poison scowled as he glanced back and forth between the two downed Dracs, and shook his head,

"Where's Girl?"

    "Safe, with the boys. Headed to my station. They'll never find her all the way out there."

"You sure?" the red head asked, looking back at him nervously.

"100%," D replied. He didn't flinch or blink. In fact, there was no expression on his aging face.

It was strange.

"I heard your little girlfriend got the mask today," D said softly, swallowing hard, "Sorry."

"She's not my girlfriend," Poison shot back, glaring down at the smoking hole in the second Drac's chest.

    "Don't sound so _relieved_ there, Casanova."

Poison sighed and took a seat on the last standing bar stool. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed,

"So, what, now? Are there more units on the way?"

"Oh, probably, probably," Dr. Death Defying said with a shrug, "I wouldn't be too concerned about 'em, though. They'll probably just fly on passed, so long as we convincingly prop our little friends up back in their squad car, _Weekend at Bernie's_ style and play dead."

He nodded to Show Pony, who knelt down and grabbed the first one, dragging him back out the doors.

    "Inventive," Poison snorted.

"Thank you. I do ever so endeavour to please you, your Highness," D replied, tipping an imaginary hat to him.

The young man rolled his eyes at that and shook his head,

"Shut the fuck up, D."

D laughed. The room fell quiet as they waited for Show Pony to return for the second body. D cleared his throat,

"Rumour has it, your friend, _The Doctor,_ is planning on shutting down all of the city's power," he began, peeking out at Poison from over his glasses, "Suppose that means he's trying to save your girl?"

    Party Poison tensed, shaking his head,

"Well, good luck with that. Remember last time somebody tried to cut off the power grid? 10,000 people got stuck in a permanent coma. Never came back."

"It got their masks off, though, didn't it?" D grinned.

Poison shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't sure which fate was worse. Being stuck as a Drac, or being stuck in a permanent sleep. He wished neither on her.

"Funny thing is," D said, waving his hand around with a shrug, "I heard tell of somebody coming out of it once, a few years back."

"Coming out of the system?"

    D nodded,

"After a power failure. Yep."

"How?" Poison straightened, bolting right out of the seat.

"Now, now, it's probably just some made up bed time story to get the kiddies to sleep better," D began, shaking his head,

"But there was talk. Apparently, the survivor claimed that the helping hand of a close friend brought her back from the brink before the generators kicked back on."

"Did they say how they did it?"

    D smiled,

"Well, yes and no. All they said was their friend showed up in their head, took 'em by the hand and led 'em to the city line. Then, they woke up. Sounded like a fever dream to me, but you never know. Maybe it really happened."

Poison cursed, shaking his head as he began pacing,

"Doc would never let me back on the TARDIS, not after everything that's happened."

Shaking his head, he pulled out the phone and dialled the number. It rang a few times, then cut out.

"Dammit. He won't even talk to me."

    He shook his head, pulling at his hair with a growl,

"How the hell am I supposed to help her if I can't go anywhere near her, D!?"

"Don't ask me! I don't got the answer," D shouted, "Call up your boys and ask them what to do!"

"I can't! They don't have phones!"

"You don't say. And here I thought you four didn't need phones, since you're all practically a goddamn _Hive_ _mind_..."

    Poison sneered at that and turned back toward the Drac. His eyes widened,

"Shit. That's it."

"What is?"

"I figured it out," he began, kneeling down beside the Drac as Show Pony came back to dispose of him, "I know how to free Clara."

    Carefully, he reached up the back of the mask and felt around a little. His fingers brushed against a small prong at the base of the Drac's head. It connected to the brain, linking him to the server. With a tug and a grunt, he pulled the prong out and wiped it of blood as he removed the mask from the man's head. Behind the mask was a young man, around 15 years of age, with bright blue eyes that gazed out into nothing. He swallowed hard and stood up from the boy's side, feeling his heart grow heavy as he turned away,

"Sorry."

D tensed as he stepped toward him, Drac mask in one hand, phone in the other. Flipping it open, he handed it to the man, making sure their hands didn't meet in the process,

"When this is over, call Doc. He'll know what to do."

"Are you sure?" D swallowed, taking the phone carefully, "This could very well kill you."

    Poison snorted, shaking his head as he grabbed the mask with both hands,

"Not if he has anything to say about it. Trust me."

Closing his eyes, he shoved the mask over his and adjusted it. He couldn't see through the eyes at all. It was like wearing a blindfold. It smelled of sweat and blood and latex, and it smothered his head with heat. He clenched his fists. Nothing was happening.

"You okay in there?" D asked, sounding a little more than concerned.

    "Yeah," Poison said, but he really wasn't sure, "So far, so good..."

"You know," D said, sounding very uneasy, "Maybe that one's a dud. It might not work, being somebody else's mask and all. We don't know. How about you take that thing off and we find another way--"

"No time. I have to do this, now. Before Doc cuts off the power..."

Unless he already did and that's why it wasn't working. Maybe Clara was already trapped, scrambled up in the system forever. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Then, the screaming began.


	13. The End of Everything

The beach was darker, colder than he remembered it. Party Poison stood stock still in the frigid surf as the sounds of death and destruction rang out all around him. But that was all they were. Sounds. As far as he could see, there was no one else with him on that beach. He shuffled forward slowly, teeth chattering with his nerves. Something or someone was bound to pop out at him any second, now. Or perhaps that was what the mask wanted him to think. Perhaps it wanted to drive him into a paranoid frenzy, making him wait anxiously for the soldiers to appear, knowing they never would. It wanted to drive him insane.

Swallowing hard, he quickened his pace, hoping to get past the first barricade without incident. The mask had other plans.

“ _Mike...!”_

He froze at the shout. He knew that voice; knew that it's bearer was long dead.

“ _Mike, help me!”_

Slowly, he turned around, heart sinking as he spotted a lone soldier cowering behind a large chunk of metal and wire.

“ _Mike!!”_

The boy flinched as bullets clanked and thunked against his hiding spot, bullets that Poison could not see.

He took a few steps forward, as if to help the poor soldier, but soon realised it wouldn't do any good. These were images long since passed, points in time that could not be changed or altered. Fixed points, as the Doctor liked to call them.

“ _Benny, come on!!”_

Poison spun around to see his former self ducking by a dune further up the beach. He shook his head and started forward,

“Don't...stop callin' him!”

“ _I can't,”_ Benny cried in reply, holding tight to his helmet.

“ _Yes, you can,”_ his past self called back, _“Just do it!! Come on!”_

Poison spun back to the frightened soldier boy and shook his head,

“No. God, no, don't...don't do it, just stay where you are. Stay where you--”

After a few deep breaths, the boy jumped up from his spot and ran out from around the blockade. He was immediately struck in the head by a bullet, and Poison flinched, turning away quickly as the boy fell to the dirt in a bloody heap. The stench of blood wafted passed him, making him nauseous, and he covered his mouth. He was certain he was going to be sick.

_“Mike.”_

Looking up, Poison fell back onto the sand, nearly jumping out of his skin as the boy now stood before him, oozing bullet hole between his eyes. He kicked away from him, gasping as his hand hit the still warm arm of Benny's fresh corpse. He glanced back and forth between them, the body and the spectre, heart racing in terror.

“ _Why did you let me die, Mike?”_ the ghost said, _“What'll they tell my parents? My sister?”_

Party Poison swallowed hard and shook his head,

“I-I don't know, Benny. I don't know....”

“ _Why did I have to die, Mike? Why couldn't it have been you?”_

He flinched at that, shaking his head,

“I don't know...”

“ _What do you know, then? Anything?”_

At first, Poison was silent. He didn't know how to respond to that. Then, with a sigh, he rose to his feet, body still shaking as he stepped up to the soldier,

“I know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry that I knew storming onto this beach that you were gonna die, and I didn't tell you. You deserved to know. But mostly, I'm sorry that you didn't get a chance to go home. You didn't get to have a life. To go to college. To find someone nice to grow old with. I'm sorry that you got robbed of all your dreams....and I'm sorry, Benny,” he pulled his gun from it's holster and aimed it at the hole already set between the spectre's eyes,

“I also know, that you're not really here....and this is gonna hurt me a helluva lot more that it hurts you.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled the trigger and fired.

Nothing happened.

Opening his eyes, he frowned and found himself standing on a vacant street corner. The wind howled as it whipped around the skyscrapers and he swallowed hard as he looked up, seeing the watchful eyes of BLIndustries' ugly, iconic smiley gazing down at him. He sighed. Turning away, he started down the empty street, gun ready at his side. He wasn't sure what would be waiting for him here, or what he might find.

He only hoped whatever it was would lead him to Clara.

 

~ø~

 

Clara sobbed as she staggered down the street, shoes worn down to the threads. Her clothes hung around her, loose and tattered, from being grabbed and snagged and pulled by the many, faceless mannequins patrolling the city. Hearing the sounds of footsteps coming up behind her, she spun around quickly to face them. Nothing was there. With a hard swallow, she lifted the metal pipe she'd been dragging around with her since the last time they attacked, and sniffled defiantly,

“All right, come out! Come out, you _Plastics_! I'm not playing this game anymore!”

As if following her command, three, poshly dressed mannequins stepped out from around the corner of the building nearest her and she slumped her shoulders, shaking her head,

“Why...? Why are you doing this!?”

She brought the pipe up to eye level, tears streaming down her cheeks as they marched toward her. She trembled in fright, taking a few steps back away from them as she shook her head, letting out a shriek,

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”

 

~ø~

 

Poison's head shot up at the sound of the distant scream, eyes going wide.

“ _WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?”_

“Clara...!”

He followed her sobs around the corner to another empty street, where they grew increasingly loud and more frantic.

“ _Stay back,”_ she shouted, _“If you know what's good for you...! I said, stay back!!”_

“Clara!”

He shouted again. The disembodied voice hiccuped softly,

“ _P-Party Poison? Where are you!? I can't see you!!”_

He shook his head, walking further down the street,

“I'm right here. Where are you?”

“ _What? You can't be here! Because I'm here! And I'd see you! Your hair is kind of hard to miss!”_

“Oh, thanks a lot.”

 

~ø~

 

 _“Maybe we're both here, then_ , _”_ she heard him say, his voice steadily getting closer.

She kept her eyes on the mannequins,

“Like a dial caught between stations?”

“ _That's exactly what I mean.”_

“Well, then how do we tune in to the same frequency!?”

“ _I don't know, let me think for a second!”_

 

~ø~

 

Dr. Death Defying swallowed hard as he watched Party Poison writhe and scream in Show Pony's arms, making sure he stayed as far back in the booth as possible,

“Keep a hold on him, now...real, real tight.”

Poison wriggled violently as Show Pony held on, arms locked around him from behind. Finally, the red head reared back and elbowed him in the gut, causing him to lose his grasp. Show Pony fell to the floor as Poison broke free, and Dr. Death Defying tensed, watching the fiery-haired man in horror as he scrambled for the open door,  
“No, no...!”

Party Poison frantically staggered out into the sandy lot in front of the Diner, and seeming to realise he was no longer bound or restricted, made a mad dash for the Joshua trees across the barren highway, and disappeared. D cursed at that and sprung up from his seat, hobbling as best as he could for his downed companion before his legs completely gave out from underneath him. Show Pony jumped as the man fell, and got up, hurrying over to help him.

“I'm okay,” D grunted, sitting up slowly. He turned his gaze to the open doors and swallowed hard,

“But I think it's high time we called the Doctor.”

 

~ø~

 

Jack straightened as he heard the shrill ringing of a phone and looked to the Doctor,

“You gonna answer that?”

Annoyed, the Doctor pulled the phone out of his pocket, only to see the image of a disco ball flashing on his caller ID. The name overhead, read _'Dr. Disco'_. Rolling his eyes, he turned the phone off and shoved it back in his pocket,

“It's only Michael.”

“Well, don't you think you should answer it?” Jack scowled, shaking his head, “It could be important.”

“I highly doubt it,” the Doctor said shortly, looking to the monitor, “I've said all I need to say to him. Frankly, there's nothing he could tell me, now, that I would want or need to hear.”

Clara's screams from the back grew loud and shrill, then, and the Doctor nodded,

“Right. We should get on with it, then.”

Cracking his knuckles, he looked at the monitor and placed his fingers on the controls,

“All right, then...time to drain the batteries on this city.”

 

~ø~

 

Clara whimpered as the mannequins drew closer, swinging the pipe at that madly,

“Have you figured it out, yet!?”

“ _Not yet! Just another minute...!”_

“Okay,” she breathed, teeth grinding as they raised their arms and reached for her, “Just hurry it up...”

“ _I'm tryin'!”_

 

~ø~

 

“For now, just close your eyes,” he shouted, examining the walls and windows of nearby buildings, “Don't even look at 'em!”

“ _What!?”_

“They're not real, Clara,” he called back, “They're inside your head, made real by the mask! If you don't look at them, they can't hurt you!”

“ _I-I don't know...”_

“Trust me, okay,” he said, “None of this is real! It's all in your head! In fact, do you know where you are, right now?”

“ _N-No...”_

“You're with Doc on the TARDIS. He's got you. You're safe! He's trying to get you out!”

“ _He is...?”_

“Yeah,” Poison said, gazing blankly at his reflection in one of the shoppe windows up the street, “He is.”

 

~ø~

 

“Is that why you're here,” she swallowed hard, swinging fast and striking one of the mannequins in the head. It fell to the ground with a thud.

“You're helping him get me out?”

“ _Yeah, that's why I'm here. We're gonna get you out, Clara. Sit tight.”_

She swallowed hard, tears hitting her eyes as they kept on coming, closer and closer,

“You're not real...are you? That's why you keep calling me 'Clara'.”

There was no reply. She gasped as the city lights suddenly cut out and tightened her grip on the pipe. It wasn't completely dark, she could still see if she squinted. She was startled to see the mannequins had suddenly vanished. Disappeared with the light. So, had Poison's voice. Lowering the pipe, she let out a wavering breath and bowed her head, shoulders shuddering with sobs. It was true, he'd just been in her head. He wasn't real, after all.

“I keep calling you Clara, because that's your fucking name.”

Her eyes widened at the voice in her ear, and she spun around with a scream, swinging the pipe as she went. There was a figure standing there, now, and they let out a yelp as the pipe collided with their head. She watched as they fell to the asphalt, groaning and moaning in pain,

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with everybody today!?”

Her heart skipped a beat and she smiled,

“Party Poison?”

“Yeah,” he whined, rubbing the bump on his temple with a sigh, “Goddamn...! What do I look like to you? A fucking baseball!”

Immediately dropping the pipe, she fell to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him hard as she broke into a fit of sobs and giggles. He sighed in relief and held her tight as she cried, closing his eyes. She smelled sweet, despite being covered in sweat and grime, reminding him of peppermint.

Pulling back, she helped him to his feet, tucking a few strands behind her ear,

“So, what do we do, now? How do we get out of here?”

Taking her by the hand, he smiled,

“We run for it.”

She smiled back at him, and they took off down the dark street as fast as they could.

 

~ø~

 

The Doctor hurried back to the room where Clara was being held, and quickly opened the door. She was now lying on the floor, motionless. Dashing inside, he scooped her up and carried her to the console room, Jack at his heels,

“Did it work!?”

“I don't know,” the Doctor grunted lying her down on the grated floor. He reached up under her mask and felt the back of her neck. His fingertips brushed against, thin, metal bar, one that was sunk into the back of her neck.

He swallowed hard,

“C'mon, Clara. Fight it! Fight hard!”

 

~ø~

 

Clara gasped as they came to a stop, and she shook her head,

“Is it looping?” she said frantically, looking around, “Is the street looping?”

Poison shook his head and let go of her hand,

“Shit...”

He dashed off down the street, Clara calling after him,

“W-Wait!”

He disappeared around the corner. She swallowed hard. What if he didn't come back? What if he was gone for good? She spun around at the sound of heavy footsteps, terrified of finding a mannequin. Instead, it Party Poison.

He threw his arms out to the side and shook his head,

“It is a loop! It's a goddamn, fucking loop!”

Her gaze fell to the floor and she bit her lip,

“We're never getting out of here...are we? We're trapped here.”

“Don't,” he said shortly, marching over and grabbing her by the shoulders,

“Don't you say that. I'm gettin' you out of here, Clara. No matter what it takes.”

Tears in her eyes, she looked to him, exhaustion in her voice,

“How?”

Licking his lips, he turned away from her and started down the street,

“I dunno. Start checking the walls, maybe there's a door or something we missed.”

“Like in _Labyrinth,_ ” she smiled, walking to the opposite side of the road, “When Sarah was stuck in the beginning?”

“You've seen _Labyrinth_?”

She smiled at his shock and glanced back at him, grin on her face,

“My mum loved _Labryinth._ Always put it on when I came home from school. She wanted to see it more than I did.”

“Your mom sounds awesome,” he laughed, feeling the wall for any give.

“She was awesome,” Clara sighed, turning back to her wall, “She was very awesome.”

She gasped as her hand suddenly met air. Frowning, she called Poison over,

“I think I found it!”

He frowned as he approached, eyebrow raised,

“The exit?”

She nodded, reaching forward. Her hand glided straight through the brick. Poison smiled,

“A fake wall.”

“Probably put there to keep us running in circles,” Clara finished.

With a snort, he took her hand and they stepped through the wall, finding themselves standing in front of a tunnel.

A sign in front of it read in bold letters “ **GETAWAY MILE”**.

Smiling to each other, they hurried passed it and entered the tunnel, both freezing as the lights began to flicker again.

Clara tensed,

“What was that?”

 

~ø~

 

Jack shook his head as he glanced up at the monitor,

“Only 30 seconds before the power comes back on.”

The Doctor tensed and swallowed hard. Reaching down, he grabbed Clara's hand and held it tight as he aimed the screwdriver at her mask,

“Come on, Clara....come on.”

 

~ø~

 

The lights in the tunnel flickered madly as they ran, flashing from yellow to green and back again. A tinny, whirring sound echoed all around them and Clara looked up,

“I think that's the sonic screwdriver!”

“Yeah, probably,” Poison yelled over it, pulling her along, “Come on!”

They hurried faster, approaching the end of the tunnel in record time. Reaching the opening, however, Party Poison tripped. He let go of Clara's hand, as not to bring her down with him, and she bent down to help him up,

“C'mon! C'mon!”

“You go on ahead! Keep running,” Poison grunted, waving her off. She shook her head, grabbing his arm and yanking him to his feet,

“Not without you. Now, c'mon! Get up!”

He winced as he put weight on it, cursing softly,

“Fuck.”

Clara immediately put his arm around her shoulder and smiled,

“I'll help you, now, c'mon! It's just in your head, remember?”

He grimaced as they started forward, going much slower now than they had previously been. As they approached the line, the street lights behind them flickered back on, and Clara swallowed hard. A set of mannequins appeared under the lamp light and she shook her head,

“They're coming back...”

Poison frowned and glanced back. The tunnel was gone, and the road now lead to a beach where a lone soldier stood in a sea of fallen bodies. Turning back to Clara, he stood up straight and pulled her arm away from him,

“You have to go. Get to the line, now!”

“I'm not leaving you here,” she shrieked, “I'll drag you out by your hair if I have to!”

“I'm not fucking around here, Clara, you need to go!”

“No--!”

“Clara--!!”

“I will not lose you like I lost _him_!”

She bit her tongue quickly, and covered her mouth.

Glancing back, he could see the beach drawing closer and he shook his head, forcing a smile,  
“I'll be right behind you. I swear! Just get up and go! Get to the city line!”

Clara glanced over his shoulder at the mannequins and shook her head, tugging him along by the hand,

“Come with me!”

He winced as he staggered forward, the weight causing his ankle to buckle. She caught him as he nearly fell, and swallowed hard,

“Please...please, come with me.”

Looking down at her, he bit his lip and took a deep breath,

“Clara...”

Clara shrieked as he suddenly spun her about face and shoved her as hard as he could. She stumbled and fell to the dirt, just over the city line, and her eyes widened. Turning back, she could see him hobbling slowly toward her. The mannequins were gone, and now, she could see the beach and the soldier that loomed behind him. His nightmare.

Standing up quickly, she reached her hand out and called to him,

“Come on! Take my hand!”

He stumbled again, landing flat on his hands and knees. With a grunt, he crawled forward, the rest of the way. The beach drew closer and the bodies of the dead grew more visible to her. They stirred to life and dragged themselves out onto the road after him. She swallowed hard.

Seeing her fear, Poison glanced back and spotted the mobile corpses himself. He froze. They were not soldiers. Instead, crawling toward him on bony, rotting hands, were Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul, and Jet Star.

“Party Poison!”

He turned his frightened gaze back to Clara, who still held her hand out to him. She shook her head,

“It isn't real! None of it is real!”

He glanced back again, seeing them coming closer. She was right. It wasn't real...at least not yet, anyway. He swallowed hard and shook his head, eyes beginning to glisten as he felt sand materialise beneath his hands,

“I can't...”

“Yes, you can,” she shrieked, stepping on top of the line, “You can, because you have to!”

“If I go back, they become real!”

“And if you don't they become _Girl_ ,” she countered, “Would you rather that!?"

He shook his head slowly. Maybe they could save her alone. Maybe they could save her without him.

"She needs you, Party Poison!!  For whatever time you have left," she shouted, "We _all_ do!"

Clara grit her teeth, tears gliding down her cheeks as she reached further over the line for him,

“Now, take my hand, dammit. I am not leaving you here.”

With a wince, Poison crawled a few inches further, and held out his hand. He could feel the corpse's grabbing at his boots and he grimaced. They were pulling him back, back toward the cold shores of Normandy. The more he fought, the more resistance he met. His eyes widened as his fingertips barely brushed against hers and he offered a smile,

“Keep running...”

Clara shook her head, as they dragged him away. She tried to run back over the line to help him, but there was some sort of barrier now, blocking her off. All she could do was watch. A blinding white light struck her then and she flinched, shielding her eyes. The beach vanished. The corpses vanished.

And so did Party Poison.

 


	14. A Helping Hand

 

Clara opened her eyes to the inside of a white, rubber mask. Shaking her head, she reached up and yelped,

"Get this off me! Get this off me!!"

She winced as she felt a scraping along the back of her neck, but her eyes soon met the TARDIS console and she sighed in relief. The Doctor leaned closer to her as she sat up, gently grabbing hold of her face as he gazed into her eyes,

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She swallowed hard, closing them as she nodded,

"Ye-Yeah. I'm fine..."

Glancing around, she straightened,

"Wh-Where is he...?"

"Where's who," the Doctor frowned, shaking his head, "Clara, who are you talking about?"

"Party Poison," she breathed, pulling away from him as she climbed to her feet, "He...he was there. He led me to the city line...! I don't know if he got out..."

The Doctor silenced. She turned back to him, eyes wide,

"Doctor....? Where is he?"

Jack stiffened, looking to the Doctor's jacket,

"Doctor, the phone call..."

The Doctor quickly pulled his phone from it's pocket and turned on the screen. There was a message for him.

Putting it to his ear, he hit play.

_"Doc. Come quick. It's Party Poison."_

The Doctor swallowed hard as the message cut off, and pulled the phone away from his ear,

"Oh, no..."

 

~ø~

 

They arrived at the Diner within seconds, and Clara burst through the door first. She rushed inside, calling out desperately,

"Party Poison!?"

"He's not here."

She spun on her heel to see Dr. Death Defying, sat in his wheelchair at the middle of the room.

She swallowed hard, shaking her head,

"Well, then, where? Where is he?What's happened to him?"

D motioned to the terrain outside,

"He's gone. Moment he put on that mask, he went full on ballistic. Flew outta here like a bat outta hell. Headed off into the desert. Show Pony's out lookin' as we speak."

Nodding shortly, she turned tail and ran in the direction he had pointed, nearly knocking the Doctor and Jack over as she went. Jack called to her, rushing after her as she darted across the sand,

"Clara, wait!"

The Doctor stepped inside the Diner, turning his sights on Dr. Death Defying. The man was glaring at him through his shades,

"Are you happy, now, Doctor?"

"Happy about what?" the Doctor said, strained tone in his voice.

"He put that mask on knowing it may very well wind up being the death of him," D began, shaking his head, "You still wanna call him a coward?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I know about a lot of things," D said, rolling forward toward him, "I've known that boy his whole sorry life, and I know he'd never do a thing to harm a hair on that girl's head. It would have killed him to shoot her--"

"Then, why did he try?" the Doctor shot back, shaking his head, "Why did he pull out that gun?"

"Trust me," D pushed, "If he'd felt there was another option, he wouldn't have."

"How do you know so much, Dr. Death Defying?" the Doctor scowled, narrowing his eyes, "There's something you're not telling me..."

"There's lots of things I don't tell anyone," D said, rolling over to the window, "Because I _can't_ tell anyone."

"Why?"

D silenced. Interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone, the Doctor looked down and quickly answered it,

"Clara?"

_"I found him! Doctor! He's still got the mask on!"_

"Go," D said, keeping his eyes locked on the horizon, "Save him."

The Doctor nodded slowly, and turned for the door.

"Oh, and Doctor?"

He glanced back at D, raising an eyebrow curiously,

"Yes?"

"Make sure you aim the screwdriver _directly_ at the prong this time," D said softly, "It'll pop right out."

Frowning, the Doctor turned and darted off in the direction Clara had gone, mind racing.

How did Dr. Death Defying know so much about the situation? Had Party Poison told him?

He assumed he must have. How else would he have all of the answers before the questions were even asked?

 

~ø~

 

Clara gasped as she put her phone away and hurried down the hill to where Party Poison lay. He was lying face down, having fallen over a small pile of discarded shrapnel. Kneeling down beside him, she reached up under his mask and felt for the prong. It was still in his neck. He hadn't gotten out.

Jack came up behind her and knelt down at her side,

"Well?"

"He's still in there. He didn't make it."

Jack nodded. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a switchblade and leaned forward,

"Here, let me..."

Pulling the mask an inch or two away from Poison's face, he cut a slit in the front, and peeled it open, so that they could see his face. Clara swallowed hard. His eyes were closed, as if he were fast asleep.

Placing a hand on his cheek, she bit her lip,

"It was horrible in there. There was a beach and a soldier. Corpses draggin' him away. He looked so scared. I've never seen anybody look so scared."

She turned to Jack, tears in her eyes,

"Tell me we'll get him back. Tell me there's a way."

Jack reached over and squeezed her arm gently,

"The Doctor will figure something out. I'm sure of it."

She looked back down at Poison and bit her lip. A tear was working it's way out from under his eyelashes. Brushing it away with her thumb, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly,

"Come on, Party Poison...don't give up."

 

~ø~

 

_"Get to the city line."_

 

Poison grunted as he grabbed for a rock, and spun around. Fun Ghoul had had his ghoulish grasp around one leg, Kobra Kid the other. He slammed the rock down onto each of their heads, bashing their skulls in a few times before finally, they released their hold. A black fluid oozed from the opened wounds onto his hand and he yelped, quickly wiping it into the sand as he staggered away. He hobbled on up the beach, back toward the fading road, pausing to hide behind a nearby gun turret. He gazed at the road, panting heavily as he shook his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut,

"I can't...fuck, I can't. I can't do it..."

Grabbing his leg, he squeezed it and cried out in pain,

"Fuck!"

_"Oh, come on, now...are you really gonna give up that easy?"_

He opened his eyes at the sound of that voice and looked up. Sitting a few feet away on another turret was a woman with wild, blonde hair and ragged clothes. She smiled,

_"I didn't peg you for a chicken, Marty McFly."_

"It's you," he said, slowly pulling himself up, "You're the chick from the Diner. From when I set off that bomb."

_"Well, technically, that never happened, now, did it?"_

"Who are you?" he said, shaking his head as he eyed her up and down, "Really?"

_"I told you,"_ the woman grinned, hopping down off the turret,  _"I'm just a lone wolf. Looking to get into something...bad."_

With a yawn, she stretched and began pacing around him, eyeing him up and down,

_"Didn't figure you'd turn out to be such a bore....what, rollin' over like this? Being a soldier, I thought you'd have more fight in you."_

"I'm not a soldier," he said, gazing at the sand, "I never was. I just did what I had to..."

_"Well, of course you did,_ " she laughed, watching him intently,  _"That's what soldiers do. They do what they have to, to protect the people they care about. That's what that little girl of yours needs. Somebody big and strong to protect her."_

Party Poison bowed his head.

_"I know that look,"_ she said, leaning down to look up at his face,  _"I've seen it a million times on another man. A man very much like you...a man with an awful decision to make. You think, 'why me? Why did it have to be me? It's not fair. I'm not strong enough!' Well, I'm going to tell you something. No, it isn't fair. Life isn't fair, not to anyone. And yes, you are strong enough. You're still here, aren't you?"_

He looked to her silently. She smiled,

_"Once in a while, we all just need a helping hand to get us through it."_

 

~ø~

 

"Clara!"

Clara glanced up from Poison's side to see the Doctor running for them at full speed. She shook her head as he knelt down, sonic screwdriver in hand,

"The prong's still in him. He's still in there."

"Not for long, he isn't," the Doctor said, aiming the light directly at it. After a few brief seconds, the prong popped out and the Doctor put the screwdriver back in his coat,

"There we are, Michael. There we go."

Gently lifting his head up, the Doctor swallowed hard,

"One of you get that thing away from his neck. Before it changes it's mind..."

Clara quickly grabbed it and tossed it off into the dried grass nearby. As soon as the Doctor laid his head back down, he bent forward and placed an ear to Poison's lips,

"He's breathing...but very faintly."

Clara bit her lip as the Doctor rose back up and shot her a dire look. Jack swallowed hard,

"You don't think he's trapped in there, do you? Doctor?"

"I certainly hope not," the Doctor said, tone, grave.

Clara turned her gaze back to Poison, then, and reaching down, gently took his hand in hers.

 

~ø~

 

Party Poison jumped as he felt a warmth in his hand, as if someone had grabbed it and took a look at it. The woman a few feet away shot him a big, toothy grin,

_"Ah, see...! Look at that! Someone out there loves you, after all."_

Looking up, he could see the beach and the corpses beginning to fade away. Even the soldier, who offered him a smile and one last wave, faded from his sight and he sighed in relief. He felt freer, now. His mind felt clear.

The woman smiled at him,

_"This world still needs you, Party Poison, so don't lose hope,"_ she began, shaking her head,  _"You've a long road ahead."_

He frowned, confused. He was slated to die tomorrow, how much longer could it be? Before he could ask her, however, the sky opened up and his vision turned white.

 

~ø~

 

The three of them waited patiently as the minutes passed, no response. The Doctor took out his sonic and waved it over the man, looking down at the findings with a sigh.

Jack frowned,

"Well?"

"It appears," the Doctor began, shoulders slumping as he gazed down at the red head, "There's been no change."

Clara swallowed hard at that as she ran her hand gently over Poison's hair, as she tightened her grip on his hand,

"Can you feel that," she whispered,"That right there? That's me, squeezin' your hand. All you have to do, is squeeze back. That's it. That's all you have to do. Just squeeze back."

"Clara," the Doctor began softly, reaching over to touch her arm.

She shook her head, gently brushing him away,

"No. Just because you've given up, doesn't mean I have to."

"Clara—"

"Doctor," she snapped, her eyes wide as she shook her head, "I mean it. Stop."

She looked back to Party Poison and waited. Ages seemed to pass. No change.

With a sniffle, Clara leaned over and pressed her head to his in silence.

".....no kiss? Really?"

Clara jumped back at the sound of his voice, eyes wide. Poison was wide awake and smirking at her.

"A kiss always wakes the princess," he continued, sounding slightly out of it, "Didn't they ever teach you that in school?"

Flashing a scowl, she reared back and punched him in the shoulder, to which he promptly yelped and sat up,

"It was a joke! Jeez--!!"

"How long were you awake, just now?" she said frantically, cheeks turning red, "How much did you hear?"

Poison shrugged sheepishly at her,

"You were squeezing my hand."

She bowed her head as he flashed her a toothy grin, tucking hair behind her ear as she stood up,

"You're a jerk. An absolute jerk."

The three men watched as she turned and headed back toward the Diner.

"Well, I'd say that was fair," the Doctor said, sighing with a shrug.

Poison nodded,

"You're probably right."

Jack nodded,

"You should probably catch up to her. She'll want an apology out of you."

Helping him to his feet, Jack smiled and patted Poison on the back,

"You know, I'm glad you're not dead."

Party Poison laughed out loud at that as he dusted himself off, looking to Jack fondly,

"Yeah. Me, too."

Coughing shortly, he hurried off, limping on his injured ankle as he crossed the dusty distance to the Diner.

He could see her just up ahead, making tracks across the sandy highway, and jogged after her, wincing with each step,

"Clara! Clara, wait!"

She turned around slowly, folding her arms across her chest as he approached. She had that look, that scolding look his old teachers used to get when he had done something bad.

"You know," he grinned, scratching his head as he approached, "I'd say you look kinda cute when you're mad, but honestly? You look smokin' hot."

"Could you _not_ trivialise my anger, please?" She said shortly, unamused, "It's rude."

He held up his hands innocently. She nodded,

"Right. Now, say you're sorry, cause I know you are. Or at least, I know you'd better be. Otherwise, I will give you every reason to be sorry. Right, now."

Party Poison flinched at that and bowed his head. With a heaving sigh, he shook his head and looked up,

"I—"

What he saw stopped his heart dead...

 

~ø~

 

_"DOC!!"_

Hearing the terrified shout, the Doctor and Jack picked up their pace covering the distance back to the Diner. They came upon Party Poison, standing stock still in the lot outside.

"Michael!? What is it!? What's happened!?" the Doctor shouted, running up right beside him.

But Party Poison did not need to even answer him. He saw the problem as soon as he looked up.

Jack stiffened as he gazed at it, eyes widening in fear,

"Well, Doctor...I think we know what happened to Australia."

A few feet from Poison, a lone statue of an angel stood, silently mocking them, stony arms outstretched as if gesturing to him,

_**'YOU'RE NEXT'**_.


	15. Nothing Lasts Forever

 

"Where the hell did it come from?" Poison hissed, glaring at the Angel with unblinking eyes.

"I suspect it's been hiding out here for a while," the Doctor said, stepping up beside him. He took out the screwdriver and flashed it before the statue, swallowing hard,

"And I further suspect there will be more of them any minute."

Jack shook his head,

"How do you know? Maybe this one's a loner."

"I highly doubt a lone Weeping Angel would be enough to send the entire land mass of Australia and all it's people careening through time and space," the Doctor growled, "And an infestation of them is the only thing that would make a Dalek warship suddenly vanish out of thin air."

"You're saying they got the Daleks, too?"

"Oh, I'm sure they did," the Doctor nodded, glaring the stony creature down, "I've no doubt about that."

"Where's Clara?" Poison breathed, fists clenched at his sides, "Where'd they take her?"

The Doctor silenced at that and bowed his head. Rubbing his eyes, he headed back toward the TARDIS, leaving Poison standing alone before the statue.

"Doc? Doc!?"

Reaching the doors, the Doctor set his hand on the TARDIS door and gazed at the floor,

"I don't know."

"Whaddya mean, 'you don't know'?" Poison swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on it, "Well, you can find out, can't you!? We can't just leave her, back there!!"

"Michael—"

"No, don't start that shit," he shook his head, "Don't you start that! I'm not losing her like that!"

The Doctor straightened and glanced over at Jack. Jack nodded at the Doctor's alarmed look.

"Jack, gimme your watch," Poison said shortly, reaching his hand back. Jack nodded and hurried over, handing him the Vortex Manipulator. The Doctor swallowed hard as Poison walked straight toward the statue,

"Michael, no! What are you doing!?"

"The Angel. It'll send be me back to the same time? To her?"

The Doctor froze. For an instant, he could see a young woman with long hair, standing amidst a cemetery of tall tombs, back to him as she stared down a very similar statue.

"I-I don't know," the Doctor stammered, still seeing her in Party Poison's stead, "Nobody knows..."

_"But it's my best shot, yeah?"_

The Doctor shook his head as the image faded and he was back, standing behind the young man with fire-engine hair. Stepping back, Poison spun around, motioning to Jack to keep an eye on the statue. He marched over to the Doctor, hazel eyes burning,

"I'm doing this. Whether you approve or not. I won't leave her hanging back there. I _can't_."

The Doctor looked down at the Manipulator on Poison's wrist and swallowed hard,

"What if it doesn't work? What will you do? Michael, you'll both be stuck there. I've no way to get you out. You'll be creating a fixed time--"

"I've already created one, Doc," Poison said, forcing a painful smile, "November 18 th ."

"Michael—"

"I have to be back here tomorrow, you know that, I know that," the red head said, spinning on his heel. He approached the Angel slowly,

"My death is a fixed point."

The Doctor snorted at that, his voice audibly cracking as he laughed,

"It doesn't have to be--!"

"But it is, Doc," Poison said sternly, "You knew it all along. You knew you'd be here one day. Sooner or later. So, say it. My death is a fixed point. Say. It."

Jack shook his head as he glanced over at the Doctor, eyes beginning to glisten,

"Doctor..."

The Doctor hesitated. Breath hitching, he swallowed hard and raised his head high,

"Your death is a fixed point, Michael."

Poison laughed at that, tears coming to his eyes as he gazed up at the statue. He felt himself shaking,

"G-Good. If this goes South, then, at least I know you'll be there to fix it."

 

~ø~

 

Dr. Death Defying watched from the windows as Party Poison stepped right up to the statue. He watched as Jack hurried over to the Doctor and turned him about face.

_"It's all you, now, Mikey-boy!"_

D smiled. He remembered that shout like it was only yesterday.

And even more fondly, he remembered what came after.

 

~ø~

 

Poison stepped up to the Angel, glaring it the eye,

"All right," he swallowed hard, "Here we go."

Fists clenched and trembling at his sides, he slowly turned away from the Angel and closed his eyes.

 

~ø~

 

When he opened them, he found himself on a residential street. A familiar one, at that. Lined with old cars, he looked up and down the road. He knew this place. He knew it very well.

"Michael?"

His eyes widened at the sound of her voice. Spinning on his heel, he saw her standing there, on the porch that used to be theirs, hand on her heart. The mirrors were still up in the windows, shards in the yard from where one of them had broken. He smiled, finding himself in tears as he looked at her,

"Bev..."

Bev covered her mouth and let out a happy sob as she ran down the porch steps. He quickly hopped the fence gate to meet her, sprinting up the walk. They met in the middle, colliding hard, and he held on to her tight.

"I knew it was you," she blubbered, arms around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder, "I knew! I always knew!!"

Pulling away from her, he grabbed her face and kissed her hard. He could smell her. He could taste her. She was real. After agonising ages of dreaming, she was finally real.

She smiled as they broke apart, foreheads touching, now, and sniffled,

"I thought I'd never see you again...I thought it was over...!"

"It'll never be over," he laughed, grinning like an idiot as he gazed at her, "Never, ever. Not for us."

Bev giggled at that and kissed him again, holding on tight.

 

~ø~

 

"So, what'll we do if it _does_ go wrong?" Jack breathed, following the Doctor into the console room, "What if he can't get the Manipulator to work?"

"Do you think he won't be able to?" the Doctor said, eyes wide, "Because if you do, that would have been something I would very much liked to have known before I let him off on this little escapade!"

"No, I'm sure it will," Jack reassured him, "I was just wondering what our Plan B is..."

"Plan B is that Plan A works out and everyone winds up back where they belong," the Doctor growled, "Plan C, we track down the Manipulator through your activation codes. Do you have them on you?"

The blue-eyed soldier snorted at that and scratched his head,

"Uh...well, you see Doctor...that's the funniest thing that you mention that..."

"You don't have them, do you?"

Jack remained silent. With a groan, the Doctor laid his head against the monitor, and heaved a heavy sigh,

"Well, then...that's just perfect, isn't it?"

 

~ø~

 

Poison smiled as he sat on the living room sofa, completely in a daze.

"Here he is!"

He turned at the sound of Bev's voice from the stairwell and grinned, rising to his feet. She carried a small, wriggling bundle with her, swaddled up in a fuzzy, blue blanket. Stepping over to her, Poison grinned as he gazed down at the little face peeking out from the fabric, and held out his arms as she handed him over,

"Hey, buddy! How are you?"

The baby cooed at him as he sat down on the sofa. It looked as though Bev had just woken him from a nap.

"He was down for the count," Bev affirmed, sitting down beside him, "But I figured you'd wanna hold him for a while."

He never thought in a million years he'd be here again, that he'd have another shot at this. He almost prayed the Manipulator wouldn't work, again. But that was selfish. As much of a pleasant surprise as this was, he came here to find Clara, not to play house. A few more minutes couldn't hurt, though.

Gazing down at the baby in his arms, he brushed a finger to his soft, little cheek and smiled,

"Did he get bigger?"

Bev shook her head,

"No. He's just the same as when you left."

He could feel her eyes on him, and glancing over at her, he smiled. She looked sad.

"How long?" She asked.

He shook his head,

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've obviously been gone a long time," she said, motioning to his hair, "Your hair's gotten longer. The colour's different...and you look so thin..."

He swallowed hard as she scooted closer. Reaching up, she brushed the stringy strands of red from his eyes,

"Are you okay?" she began, doe brown eyes glittering with concern, "Are you eating properly? Are you getting enough sleep?"

He snorted at that and leaned into her hand,  
"Bev," he began, his mouth producing a lie, "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

He didn't feel right telling her that, no, out in the desert, he was basically starving to death. He felt it best not to mention his encounter with Radio Rash and how he'd dropped 30 pounds in three weeks because it made him so sick. And it would only serve to scare her knowing that he hadn't really slept in ages due to the war waging behind his eyelids. He had a feeling, however, that she could see right through him. If she could, however, she neglected to mention it.

Without a word, she smiled and leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes. They stayed that way for a while, in the middle of that living room, speaking no words. Party Poison was afraid to move, afraid he might jinx it all if he did. But eventually, he knew he would have to. And so did Bev.

"This is only temporary, isn't it," she whispered, brushing a hand to Pete's head, "You're going to go back."

"Yeah."

She looked up at him, a tear gliding down her nose. He sighed, looking away from her and over to the radio across the room,

"I have to."

Clearing he throat, he handed Pete back over to her and stood up, walking to the window,  
"I...I'm actually only here because I'm looking for somebody. A friend who got sent back by mistake."

"O-Oh," he heard her say, a break in her voice, "I see..."

He turned to her, shaking his head as he hurried back to her side,

"Believe me," he said, pressing his head to hers as he scooted close, "I'd stay if I could. You have no idea how bad I want to..."

"Oh, I think I have a notion," she replied, swallowing hard as she stood up. She headed toward the stairs,  
"I'll go put him down. And when I come back, I'll help you figure out where your friend is, okay?"

He wandered the house as she went upstairs to put their son to bed, brushing his fingers to every object he could. It was surreal, being in this place. Like a dream, except he was wide awake. It was a welcomed change from the Draculoid mask. Entering the kitchen, he set his gloves down on the table and walked over to the sink. He turned on the faucet, let the water run over his hands. It was cold. Letting it pool in his palms, he splashed it too his face and sighed. Leaving this time would be ten times harder than it was the last.

"What happened to your wedding ring?"

Poison swallowed hard as he turned, grabbing the dish rag from the oven handle,

"I, uh...it fell off...somewhere."

He swallowed hard. He hated to lie, but what was he supposed to say? He pawned it for a couple of guns?

Bev rolled her eyes, and folded her arms,

"Don't lie to me, Michael. I can always tell when you're lying."

He fell silent.

"There's someone else, now, isn't there?" she breathed, eyes cast upon the floor, "That's why you're lying."

"That's not it," he said quickly, shaking his head as he rushed over to her, "That is not it at all...!"

Grabbing her hands, he squeezed them tight and bit his lip,  
"Bev, I--"

"It's okay," she said, smiling through tears, "If you did. It's obviously been a long time and...and I wouldn't want you to be alone."

Putting an arm around her, he kissed her head and held her close,

"I sold it for a gun. A gun I needed to save my friends."

Holding up his wrist, he showed her the rosary,

"But just because I don't have my ring anymore, doesn't mean you aren't always with me."

She smiled as she ran her fingers over the tarnished, silver cross dangling at the end of the beaded, turquoise chain,

"You still have it."

"Of course, I do," he snorted, "And if they want it, they'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands."

Bev giggled at that, blushing brightly,

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

A few moments passed, and finally, she broke away, clearing her throat,

"Right. So, we have to find your friend."

"Yeah," he licked his lips, leaning on the kitchen table as she headed into the hall. She came back with a phone book, and flipped it open,

"All right. What's his name?"

"Uh," he coughed shortly and shook his head, "It's uh...her name is Clara."

Bev raised her head, eyes wide,

" _Her_?"

"She's just a friend," he pressed, holding his hands up, "I swear."

Bev nodded, waving it of with a laugh,

"Okay! I believe you. Clara, what?"

"Oswald, I think," he said, stepping up beside her as she thumbed through the pages, "Clara Oswald."

The woman looked to him, her eyes wide as she repeated the name,

"Clara Oswald...?"

Poison looked to her, somewhat startled by the sound of recognition in her voice,

"Y-Yeah...do you know her?"

"Michael," Bev snorted, "Is that...is that a joke?"

"No, I'm not joking," he said, "Do you know her?"

Bev nodded slowly.

"How?" Poison said, putting a hand on her arm, "H-How do you know her? Do you know where she is?"

"She was at our wedding, Michael," she said, touching a hand to his head, "She was the maid of honour at my wedding. I introduced you two. Don't you remember?"

 

~ø~

 

Clara gasped as she blinked, finding herself standing in the middle of a park. She glanced around curiously. Where was the Diner? Where the Party Poison? And the Doctor?

Nearby, she spotted a newspaper stand and jogging over to it, she grabbed one of the papers and swallowed hard.

The date read November 15th, 1942.

Her eyes widened as she looked up from the paper and to the nearby road, where vintage cars drove passed, sparkling like new, and their passengers looked like they'd just stepped off of an old-timey movie set.

She swallowed hard, her heart racing as she took a breath,

"Okay. Now, what?"


	16. Hello, Doctor. It's Me, Clara

 

Party Poison leaned against the table as he scoured his mind. The wedding party? The memories were too sparse. There was a vague instance where he remembered meeting a friend of hers, but he couldn't see them, now, nor could he remember the name.

"No," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut, "No, I don't...I didn't...remember that."

"I read those treatments would have side effects," Bev said, reaching her hand up to brush the hair from his face,

"Oh, God...I didn't realise how bad they'd be. Michael--"

"It's fine," he said quickly, waving her off, "I'll deal with it. Just...do you know where she is, now?"

 

~ø~

 

She entered the classroom and walked straight to the chalkboard to scratch down the date.

_**September 30** _ _**th** _ _**, 1943.** _

Turning to the class, she smiled as the curtain of her silky, brown hair whipped her in the face,

“Good morning, class.”

“Good morning, Miss Oswald,” they replied, more or less in unison.

“Well, don't sound so _enthused_ ,” she smiled, leaning back against her desk as she crossed her arms,

“People might think you're actually here to _learn_ something...”

The students laughed. She smiled.

 

-ø-

 

_Hello, Doctor. It's me, Clara._

_God knows when you'll get this....or even, if, you'll get this. I'm trapped in the past, but I suspect by now, you probably know that. I don't expect I'll be seeing you again, so, in approximately 73 years, should this postman still exist in that time, I've asked this to be delivered to my apartment in London, where hopefully, you, or my dad or gran, will get it._

_Not that dad or gran would believe a word of it._

 

_Anyway, I'm doing okay. I got a job at an elementary school. 3 rd years, though, I suppose here, they're called '2nd graders'. They're not so bad, not so bad as some of my old students. Though, thinking on it, now, they weren't bad either, I suppose. I kind of miss them, actually._

_I found an apartment. Rent only costs $35.00, here, can you believe it! I mean...well, I only make about $1200 a year, so I guess it all adds up somewhere. Inflation. What a kicker._

 

_Well, I suppose I should be getting back to work. The kids are almost back from recess, now, and our next lesson is about Space. Think of how easily I could blow their little minds with stories about you. What a fearsome power I possess...!_

 

_That being said, I suppose that's all she wrote. I've nothing left to say, now, really, except thank you._

_Thank you for all of our adventures. I'll never forget them._

 

_Goodbye, Doctor._

 

_I love you._

 

-ø-

 

A knock at the door drew her attention away from the letter and she quickly wiped her eyes,

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you Miss Oswald?” said the young woman standing in the doorway, books in her arms.

Clara nodded shortly,

“I-I am.”

The young woman smiled,

“Hi, I was told I'd be shadowing you this semester?”

Clara stared at her blankly for a moment. She looked familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on where they would have met. Finally, she shook her head and smiled,

“Oh, right! My T.A! Hi! How are you..?”

She got up to shake the woman's hand, and the woman nodded,

“Beverly,” she said, “Beverly Spence.”

Clara's eyes widened.

 

-ø-

 

_ Hello, again! Didn't expect a second letter, did you? _

 

_Well, this one's not actually for you, Doctor. This one is for Party Poison._

 

_I met your wife. She's perfectly lovely. For this last year of her teaching course, she's required to shadow me in the classroom for a whole semester. She is absolutely a life saver. The woman is amazing. She can get those kids to shut up with just a snap of her fingers. You know what I have to do to get them to be quiet?_

_Bribe them. With crayons. And sometimes candy. I'm really gonna have to learn how she does it.  
_

_Yesterday, she stopped one of the kids from choking on one of my said crayons by sticking her hand entirely down his throat and whipping it out in one motion. It was possibly the single most badass thing I have ever witnessed in my life. And she's so commanding, it's a bit of a turn-on, really._

_In fact, if you don't hurry up and get over here, I'm moving in! Ha, ha!_

 

_I may or may not be kidding about that._

 

-ø-

 

_**November 17, 1943** _

 

“Thanks for letting me crash in your room, Bev,” Clara sighed, drying her hair with a towel as she rounded the bed, “You're a life saver.”

“Oh, it's no problem,” Bev said, closing her textbook as the other woman sat down, “When you told me your apartment flooded, I didn't realise that meant you were sleeping at the school! You shoulda told me sooner!”

“Yeah, well,” Clara shrugged, shaking her head, “It's my problem. Didn't really wanna bother anyone else with it.”

“But isn't that what friends are for?” Bev smirked, rolling onto her side, “Laying the guilt on thick until they give you what you want?”

The two women laughed. Clara leaned back against the headboard, glancing down at Bev's hand. She let out a whistle,

“Wow, that is some rock! I never noticed it before. Is it new?”

Bev swallowed hard and bit her lip,

“No...not really.”

Clara frowned. The woman seemed really apprehensive to talk about it. She raised as she followed the path from the ring up Bev's arm to a small section of purple skin peeking out from the sleeve of her satin, pink robe.

“Bev, what is that?” she asked, pointing to the bruise, “Did someone do that to you?”

Bev tensed and shook her head slowly,

“N-No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

A sudden loud pounding at the front door drew their attentions and Bev held her breath. At first it was silent. Then, she heard her father call from downstairs,

“Beverly! Your fiancé's here to see you!”

She clenched her fists as she closed her eyes and let out an exhausted sigh,

“I'll be right there,” she called back, bowing her head.

Rising from the bed, she headed out of the room, and Clara hurried to the window. She glanced into the yard, where she could see a young soldier, dressed to the nines, staggering like a drunkard on the lawn. Bev stepped out after him moments later, arms folded across her chest,

“Richard, what are you doing here?”

“Me? I'm here to pick you up,” he said, smiling at her like an idiot, “For our date—”

“I told you I couldn't go out tonight. I'm helping Clara grade papers.”

“Who's Clara?”

“Clara's my friend. She's the teacher I've been shadowing at the elementary school, I told you that.”

“Oh,” Richard snorted, wiping his nose, “So, you're still doing _that_?”  
“Yes, I'm still doing that,” she groaned, rolling her eyes, “Now, please. Go home and go to sleep. You're drunk.”

“I am,” he paused, seeming as though he would be sick in the garden, then shook his head, “I am not drunk.”

Clara swallowed hard as she watched him stagger over to Bev, watched him grab the same arm that was black and blue. He started dragging her down the yard while she squirmed, desperately trying to pull away from him.

“Richard, stop!”

“I just wanna go for a ride, baby, that's all! C'mon, it'll be fun!”

Clara tensed as Bev continued to struggle and quickly turned, heading downstairs toward the front door. In a holder next to the door was a cane umbrella. She grabbed it and opened the door, just in time to see Richard rear up and use his fist to back hand Bev, so hard she fell to the ground.

“Stop arguing with me,” he shrieked, then reached down to grab her arm again, “And let's go!”

Bev said nothing in reply. Her eyes were locked to the grass.

Squeezing the umbrella tight, Clara ran out to meet them, waving it at him,

“Oi, you let her go, right now!”

The drunken Richard looked up to see her and snorted,

“Is this a joke?”

“No, it most certainly is not,” Clara snarled, “Let her go, or I will make you let her go.”

“I'd like to see you try--”

Swinging the umbrella hard and fast, she promptly smacked him in the head with it and he staggered away from them, yelping loudly,

“What the fuck...! You little bitch!”

“Touch her again,” Clara spat, stepping protectively in front of the cowering woman, “See what happens. I know Tae-Kwon-Do, and I will kick your sorry ass into next Tuesday.”

He looked at her in complete confusion and she straightened, shaking her head,

“What? Has that not been invented, yet, or are you deaf?”

“Who the hell do you think you are!?” Richard shrieked, storming toward them as he regained his balance, “Do you know who you're talking to!?”

“Oh, honestly, I don't care who I'm talking to,” Clara laughed, shaking her head, “I'll take you down. Wanna try? Go ahead. Try to touch her again, see what happens, mate.”

With an annoyed spit, Richard turned and trudged back to his car. As he drove away, Clara knelt down beside Bev, who at this point had broken down into incoherent sobs. Pulling her into her arms, she helped her to her feet and walked her back inside,

“There, there,” she said, running a hand up and down Bev's back, “You're okay, now. You're all right!”

“I'm sorry,” Bev whimpered, her entire body shaking in Clara's grasp, “I'm sorry....”

“Do not be sorry, “ Clara reassured, leading her back up to her room and setting her down on the bed, “ You have nothing to be sorry for. I'll be back with an ice pack for your eye, all right?”

As she went down stairs, she spotted Bev's father sitting in the living room and stormed over to him,

“Are you aware of what just took place on your front lawn?” she began, pointing toward the doorway, “Your daughter's fiancé just gave her a black eye! And if the bruises on her arm are what I think they are from, then no doubt, he's been hurting her a long time--”

“Well,” the man said, taking a puff of his cigar, “What did she do to get him so mad?”

Clara's eyes widened at his unaffected response and she shook her head,

“How dare you...! How dare you insinuate that his rage was somethin' she deserved!”

“Beverly has a history of mouthing off,” he growled, rising from his chair, “She's not the kind that knows how to keep her mouth shut. A quality that you, Miss Oswald, is it, seem to share with her.”

He straightened his back and Clara swallowed hard as he towered over her, glaring her down through his spectacles,

“So, how about you quit mouthing off about things you know nothing of, before somebody gets the sense to give _you_ a black eye? Hmm?”

He pushed passed her, bumping her forcefully out of the way as he headed for the door,

“Caroline, I'm going for a walk!”

“ _Okay, dear,”_ his wife shouted from the other room.

Clara stood frozen as the door slammed behind her, swallowing hard. This house was a nightmare, worse than any those Draculoid masks could create. These nightmares were real.

Grabbing the ice bag from the old-style refrigerator, she hurried back upstairs to Bev's room and closed the door behind her.

“Here,” she said, handing her the pouch as she sat down beside her.

Bev smiled, taking it graciously,

“Thank you.”

She sniffled, gazing at the floor as she shook her head,

“You know...he isn't usually like that,” she bit her lip, “He...he was just a little too drunk, is all...”

“You don't have to make excuses for him,” Clara said, putting an arm around her, “How often does he hurt you like that?”

Bev hesitated. Clearing her throat, she winced and pressed the bag to her eye,

“More often then I'd like to admit, honestly....”

“Bev...”

“He isn't a bad person, Clara,” she insisted, “Or at least, he didn't used to be. He used to be very sweet and kind. He was a real gentleman before he joined the army.But it's almost like the person I knew just...vanished out of thin air when he signed up. He came back from training so different. I don't even recognise him anymore.”

“Then, why stay,” Clara pressed, shaking her head, “Why not leave him? Save yourself all this heartache? Beverly, he is toxic. That is a man who could clearly give less of a damn about you or your feelings. Trust me, I've met my fair share of them. He is all wrong for you.”

The doe-eyed woman fell silent. Swallowing hard, Bev sighed,  
“Maybe I'm hoping that one day, that boy I loved will come back,” she whispered, her voice breaking softly, “Maybe I'm holding out hope for him because there's no one else out there who would even look at me...”

Clara straightened. She desperately wanted to tell her, tell her all about Party Poison and how he was coming for her and she only need wait a few months more. That he'd love her like no one else, and she'd be the light of his whole world and that she'd never have to hurt like this, not for as long as she had him at least. But she couldn't say a word. She couldn't tell her anything about him. But maybe...maybe she could hint at it.

“Surely, there is,” she said, gently patting the woman's leg, “Somebody you've _dreamt_ about! Somebody else who makes you feel like the...oh, I dunno, the beautiful person that you are?”

Bev blushed and shrugged,

“Well, there's _you_.”

Clara straightened, eyes wide and heart racing,

“Wh-Wha--”

“Oh, not like _that_ , silly,” Bev giggled, shaking her head, “You are awfully cute, though.”

Clara nodded slowly, forcing a laugh as her heart sank a bit,

“Oh, right...a joke! Of course...it would be...! A joke. Silly me! Don't scare me like that...!”

She took a moment to compose herself as Bev's giggling ceased, then turned to her with a smile,

“Seriously, though! Surely you've shopped the market a bit? Seen what else is out there?”

Bev sighed, shrugging a little as she pulled the pouch away from her face to look at it,

“Well...there was one...but I don't even know who he was or if it was even real, so never mind...!”

Clara scooted closer, egging her on,

“No, no! Tell me! I want to hear about it!”

Bev bit her lip and grinned, letting out a little laugh as she reached for her nightstand,

“Okay.”

She opened the drawer and pulled out her Bible. Flipping it open to the middle, she pulled from it's pages, a yellowing napkin and handed it to Clara. Written on smudged and smeared ink were the words, _**'See you at the USO. - your Future Husband.'**_

Clara smiled. So, she did remember, after all.

“It was the craziest dream,” Bev began, gazing at the napkin, “He came out of nowhere. Richard had just given me this stupid ring and asked me to marry him...and when I said 'No', he threw a temper tantrum and left. And this man...this man with the strangest hair I have ever seen on anyone, he came and he helped me pick up my books. And he told me I looked like his wife, who had died. And then he danced with me in the rain...in the middle of a busy street. And he was humming this song...and I swear, I've never heard it before, but it sounded so familiar...and he was so familiar. He was like home in the form of a person. A complete stranger, too! Can you believe that? It was the most alive I've ever felt...”

Clara swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat at the tears in Bev's eyes. She had lit up just recalling it, bright like a star, smiling wider than she'd ever seen. And now, as the moments passed, that light was dimming, slowly extinguishing as Bev turned her eyes to the ring on her finger,

“But...then I woke up in the booth. It was like it never happened...except I was soaking wet, and that napkin was there. I don't have any idea what happened to him. Who he was, where he went...nothing. He was just gone.”

She wiped her eyes and forced a smile,

“And I can dream about him all I want, but at the end of the day, that's all he is! A dream. A lovely little dream that I wish I'd never woken from.”

Clara bit her lip. Those were damn near the exact words the Doctor had spoken after he'd made Bev breath in the sleep powder. She couldn't let her go on believing that.

“Explain this napkin, then,” she pressed, waving it in front of Bev's face, “Where did it come from?”

“Well, I figure it was Richard,” Bev shrugged, letting out a snort,“Though he seemed pretty clueless when I asked. Perhaps he got drunk and came back...bashed my head against the table and I dreamt the whole thing! Wouldn't surprise me...”

“Bev, that's horrible,” Clara shook her head, holding tight to the napkin, “And look at it. Does that look anything like his hand writing?”

Bev bit her lip,

“Not really...but who else would have left that for me?”

“Your dream man,” Clara insisted, then shrugged, “Or a helping hand to your dream man, either way! This was not the work of your fiancé. There is a bigger plot, a grander scheme, and this napkin is your key.”

“My key,” she shook her head, “My key to what?”

Clara smiled,

“The biggest adventure of your life.”


	17. Man Of Her Dreams

 

_Do you have any idea how inconsiderate you are, Party Poison? Ever since I met Beverly, it has become increasingly hard for me to take her out on the town without having to worry about running into you and good Ol' Captain Jack!_

 

_-ø-_

 

_**February 5** _ _**th** _ _**, 1944** _

 

“That movie was hysterical!”

Clara laughed, shaking her head,

“I know, wasn't it!? I expected more out of a movie about Captain America! _'How did you find out about my vibrator?'_ I damn near lost it!!”

Bev shook her head at that and sighed,

“I-I don't get it...? Why's _that_ so hilarious? Did you see the rest of it?”

Clara snorted and shrugged,

“Well yeah, but...oh c'mon,” she nudged Bev's arm playfully, “A vibrator...you know? For your...?”

Bev looked alarmed at the motion Clara was making with her hands, and Clara stopped immediately, beginning to blush,

“O-Oh my God, you have no idea what I'm talking about. Have those not been invented, yet...?”

Forcing an awkward laugh, she patted Bev's back and giggled,

“Scarabs! So hilarious,” she grabbed the woman's hand, and put on a fake voice, “You have now been infected by The Purple Death, Beverly Spence! Now, you must buy us both ice cream!”

Bev dramatically pressed a hand to her head as she trudged ahead,

“Oh, no! I simply can't resist! What, then? After we have ice cream?”

“Then, you die,” Clara said in a deep voice, and the two laughed again.

She paused as they passed an alleyway, hearing what sounded like moaning.

Stepping back a few paces, she glanced down the dark passage to see two men in the shadows rather intimately posed. Her eyes widened as she took a few steps in, squinting. She knew that profile.

“Party Poison?”

The figure pressed against the wall jerked suddenly, pulling his companion's hand out from his waistband. They stopped kissing long enough for him to let out a shout,

“Who the fuck said that!?”

Clamping her hands over her mouth, Clara quickly ran from the alley, nearly mowing Bev down as she went. Grabbing her by the wrist, she dragged her down the street in a hurry and pushed her around the corner,

“Run, run, run, run!!”

“Why!?” Bev shrieked, “What are we running from!?”

 

-ø-

 

_You should at least have had the decency not to dry hump each other in public! Honestly, anyone could have see you! And do you know what the punishment was for that kind of behaviour, back then!? Trust me, Party Poison, you would not have wanted to be caught with your pants down like that! And literally, they were down! Around your ankles!_

 

-ø-

 

_**March 18** _ _**th** _ _**, 1944** _

 

Clara sighed as she walked into the coffee shop, spotting Bev at their usual booth. She ordered a cup of tea before heading over to sit down, as the waitress would bring it over, and smiled,

“So, how'd the exam go?”

Bev grinned and took a sip from her cup,

“Well, I knew all the answers!”

“Do you think you passed it, then?”

“Oh, I certainly think so,” she squealed, setting the cup back down.

Clara giggled at that, and, as soon as the waitress had come by with her tea, she raised it with a smile

“A toast, then?”

Bev raised her cup as well and they clanked together with the tiniest 'clink'. Clara nodded,

“To A's on exams, and becoming the best damn Kindergarten teacher in all of California.”

Bev straightened at that, a frown on her face,

“I applied to teach 2nd graders, though? Do you really think they'll give me Kindergarten?”

Nearly snorting tea through her nose, Clara swallowed hard and coughed,

“Ahh...ah, no. No, I was just...I thought that's what you applied to, is all?”

She would really have to start being more careful with what she said.

The bell chimed then, and she heard a somber voice at the counter,

“Just a coffee, thanks. Make it black.”

“Okay, sir. It'll be ready in a moment.”

Clara glanced back, watching silently as the man trudged to the back most booth and sat down, newspaper in hand. He slapped it down on the table and held his head in his hands.

“You know, we should go see a movie to celebrate,” Bev said, completely oblivious to the man, “One just opened up today called _See Here, Private Hargrove._ It's supposed to be really funny. Robert Walker's in it. I love his movies...”

Clara shook her head and coughed, standing quickly from the booth,

“Erm...yeah, that sounds great. Let me just go freshen up and we can head out, okay?”

“All right.”

Heading back to the bathroom, she glanced down at the man and his newspaper. He was reading an obituary, dated March 5 th . An obituary for a 'Captain Jack Harkness'. A few tears had already splashed onto the paper as she walked by him, and she could hear him sniffle and cough.

 

-ø-

 

_The next time I saw you was a very different scenario. I passed by that café quite a few times after that to find you sitting in the same booth every day with that same newspaper in your hand. You'd only stay for the amount of time it took to drink your coffee and then you'd leave. And since you decided to start this depressing ritual, I decided I'd make a ritual of my own to counter you..._

 

-ø-

 

Coming back out of the bathroom, Clara passed his booth again and smiled. She headed right up to the counter and waved the clerk over,

“Yes, erm, do you sell soufflés here?

“Yes, we do. What kind would you like?”

“Oh, chocolate, please. And it's not for me, it's for the man at the booth in the corner.”

“All right. That will be 25 cents.”

Nodding, she handed over the quarter and glanced back at Party Poison with a smile. He was oblivious to the fact that she was even there, as it should be, of course, but that didn't mean she had to sit by and helplessly watch him be sad.

Stepping back over to Bev, she nodded and grabbed her bag,

“Come on. Let's go and see that movie.”

“Don't you wanna finish your tea?”

Clara shook her head, watching the waitress step out from behind the counter with his coffee and the desert she'd just bought him,

“Nah. I'll have some when I get home. It's fine.”

They headed out of the coffee shop and started down the street. Clara glanced back into the window as the waitress arrived at his table, saw the confusion on his face when she handed him the little soufflé. He looked alarmed. The waitress explained to him, through gestures and pointing, that someone else had purchased it for him and walked away. He smiled thoughtfully and stared down at it.

 

-ø-

 

_You told me once you'd never had a soufflé before. Now, you've had at least a dozen. Hope that doesn't put a kink in your time stream._

 

-ø-

 

_**April 25** _ _**th** _ _**, 1944** _

 

Clara gasped as she rounded the corner of the street, ploughing right into a blur wearing dress greens. She dropped her books in the process, and he, his papers, and they both scrambled to pick up their items in a hurry.

“Sorry,” she exclaimed, shaking her head as she reached for her books, “I'm so sorry!”

“Nah, I shoulda been watching where I was going. It's all on me, girly.”

Her eyes widened at the remark and her head snapped up. She found herself staring directly into a pair of familiar hazel eyes.

“Party P--,” she quickly stopped herself, gaping at him dumbfounded.

A startled look flashed over his face and he frowned,

“Wh-What did you say...?”

Clara's mouth fell open and she swallowed hard, shaking her head,

“I-I-I'm a party planner. Those are my-my plans.”

He snorted at that, forcing a smile as he gathered them up for her,

“R-Right. Sorry. Here.”

He handed her the books and she took them with a thoughtful nod,

“Thank you.”

The paper on top was not hers however, and her eyes widened. It was a set list for the USO dance. The dance where he would finally meet Bev. The dance that was being held that very night.

“S-So, you're a singer?” she said, handing him back the paper, “Any chance you do birthdays?”

She winced, not entirely sure why she had said that. He snorted, scratching his oddly black hair with a shrug,

“Ah, no. This is actually my first gig...I don't even know what I sound like outside of a shower. I mean, I can do a pretty mean _Manilow_ behind closed doors, but, hell...who knows right?”

She giggled at his joke and nervously nudged his arm,

“Well, I'm sure there's someone out there who _Can't Smile Without_ _You_ and your questionable abilities.”

He let out a laugh at that and shook his head,

“Yeah, maybe....”

They both paused then, and Party Poison looked at her with wide eyes,

“Wait a minute....”

Clara quickly waved to him and darted across the road,

“Well, thank you for the help, I'm sure you'll do great at the show!”

She glanced back, hurrying faster as she saw that he was chasing her. She heard cars honking as she made it to the other side of the road and cringed, continuing on without looking back, even as she heard him yell.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW _MANILOW_!?!”

 

~ø~

 

Making it back to her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her and sighed, slamming her head back against it,

“Dammit.”

She then staggered over to her sofa and flopped face down onto it, where she let out a loud whine,

“What have I done...!? How bad is that gonna screw everything up?”

The shrill ringing of a telephone drew her out of her misery and she sat up, crawling to the phone with a groan,

“Hello?”

“ _Clara? You okay?”_

“Oh,” her eyes lit up at the voice and she grabbed the phone cord, “Bev, hi!”

“ _Should I call back at a different time? You sound like you need a moment...”_

“No, no, I'm fine,” Clara smiled, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair, “It's just...I've had a rough day.”

“ _Oh, I see,”_ Bev said, _“Do you wanna talk about it?”_

“Not particularly,” she sighed, putting her feet up on the coffee table, “Damaged the space time continuum enough for one day.”

“ _What?”_

She giggled, shaking her head as she twirled her finger in the cord,

“Oh, nothing. Say...what are you doing tonight?”

 

~ø~

 

The two women entered the decorated ballroom and Clara smiled. The USO banner was enormous, bigger than she'd anticipated. The band was already setting up. It was only a matter of time before Party Poison would come out on stage, and woo Bev into that Jeep, in whatever way he managed to woo complete strangers.

His unending charms, she supposed.

“Do you want to get closer?” she asked, turning to Bev with a smile.

Bev shook her head, and turned away staggering over to the bar,

“Not really.”

Sitting down she waved the bartender over and ordered a whiskey sour. Clara trotted up beside her, and sat at the other stool,

“Bev? What's wrong?”

Bev shrugged, drumming her fingers on the bar as she sighed,

“Nothing...”

“ _Beverly_.”

With an exasperated sigh, she turned to Clara and swallowed hard,

“Richard apologised today. Had a complete breakdown. Asked me to give him another chance.”

“And what did you say to him?” Clara asked, tensing as the house lights came down. The show was about to start. Bev took her drink from the bartender and practically chugged it back. Slamming it down on the table once she'd finished, she showed her the ring on her finger,

“What do _you_ think?”

“Bev, you can't go back to him--”

“Well, I did. He promised it'd be different this time.”

“And you believe him?”

Bev remained silent. The crowd began to cheer and Clara glanced back, seeing Party Poison now standing on stage with the band. He smiled,

“H-How you guys doin' tonight?”

She giggled. He sounded so unnaturally nervous. Turning back to Bev, Clara shook her head and lightly grabbed her arm,

“Come on, Bev. What about your Future Husband, hmm? You were supposed to meet him at the USO, right? Well, look! We're here! At the USO! Just look around! You might find him somewhere, lurking around! Or on stage...in front of everyone--”

“Clara, I'm sorry! I made up my mind! I'm going to marry Richard.”

“But why--”

“Because,” Bev cried, shaking her head furiously, “Because he isn't a dream! He's a real person. He's flawed and he isn't perfect--”

“And he beats you--”

“Well, maybe I deserve it,” Bev groaned, “And he loves me. And one upon a time, I loved him back. Maybe I could again.”

“You deserve better than him, Bev. You deserve the world,” Clara pleaded, glancing back as the song began. Her eyes widened. His voice was surprisingly good.

“Who would marry me if not him?” Bev sighed, quickly countering, “And don't say my Future Husband, because for God's sake, Clara, he doesn't exist!”

Clara sighed as she watched Bev order another four shots, this time, tequila. She downed them all consecutively, waving Clara off,

“You go on. Have fun and dance. I'll be here.”

Clara shook her head and shrugged,

“Fine. Fine.”

Turning away from the bar, she trudged her way out into the middle of the crowd and watched him sing. A smile struck her.

-ø-

 

_You know, you never told me you could sing. Quite the crooner you are, Party Poison. Could give Ol' Blue Eyes a run for his money..._

 

-ø-

 

After a few songs had passed, Clara jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder. It was Bev.

She looked thoroughly trashed.

“I think I wanna go home, now,” she shouted. Clara's eyes widened at that and she shook her head,

“No! No, we can't go home, yet,” she pleaded as Bev turned and began to head for the door, “Just one more song!”

“Clara, I can't,” she said, unable to keep her footing straight as she went, “I need to go. We can come back some other time...”

Clara glanced back at the stage and bit her lip. They were getting ready for another song.

Shaking her head, she sighed and started after Bev,

“I'm sorry...”

She hurried after Bev to find her stopped at the door, doubled over a trash can. Stepping up beside her, she rubbed her back and pulled the hair away from her face,

“Oh, boy...yeah, maybe you should just go home.”

_“I'll be seeing you....in all the old familiar places.”_

Helping her upright, Clara sighed and put her arms around her shoulders,

“Come on. Let's get you home--”

“No, wait.”

Bev pulled away and turned back for the stage. Clara followed her cautiously as she wobbled her way toward the crowd. She seemed to sober up a bit with every step she took.

“Bev,” Clara asked, raising an eyebrow at her, “You okay?”

“No, I'm not,” she said, reaching her hand out for Clara to take. Clara stepped up beside her and grabbed her hand, her eyes wide,

“What is it? What's wrong?”

Bev swallowed hard, the string lights over head catching the tears in her eyes as she smiled,

“That's him.”

_“That this heart of mine embraces...all day through~”_

“Him, who?” Clara smirked, glancing up at Bev. The woman was completely entranced.

“The man from my dream,” Bev breathed, a tear hitting her cheek, “He was real...”

“ _In that small cafe...the...”_

Clara straightened as he trailed off and froze in place. Something was wrong, she could see it in his eyes. He looked helpless.

“ _The...”_

Suddenly, he shook his head, and looked to the rest of the band. They were all staring at him. Without a word, he suddenly spun and darted off stage. Bev swallowed hard as the music started back up, and her brother took over the singing parts.

“That poor man,” she breathed, hand on her heart.

“Yeah,” Clara said, sighing deeply, “I know.”

Clearing her throat, Bev offered her a smile, and nodded,

“I think I'm gonna go have a smoke. See how I feel. Is that okay?”

Clara nodded, smiling as she rubbed the woman's arm,

“That's perfectly fine. Go get him.”

Bev giggled at that, then turned and made her way toward the back left exit that Party Poison had fled from, leaving Clara behind in the middle of the crowd.

Letting the song finish out, Clara headed toward the exit as well, to see if history was coming together properly. The door was shut, but there was still a window she could peek through, small as it was. Grabbing a stool, she stepped up and peered out through the glass. They were still sitting on the back steps. Just talking. At least, for now.

Her eyes widened as she watched Bev place her hand on his thigh, watched it disappear as it moved up and up his leg, until finally Party Poison jumped. He moved slightly, and Clara could see exactly where Bev's hand had clamped down.

 

She blushed, gasping softly as she watched her friend swivel around and climb onto his lap,

 

“Oh my goodness.”

 

Party Poison didn't protest to this, though he did look alarmed at first. Bev grinned and grabbed his face as he shot her a look of surprise. She replied with bedroom eyes and a passionate kiss on the mouth that lasted five minutes. When she finally pulled away, he was on the same page. Clara blushed as she watched Bev jump up and take Poison by the hand, dragging him to his feet. The doe-eyed woman then dragged him down the pavement to a line of Jeeps, and pulled him close as they reached one. Clara covered her mouth, nearly letting out a scream as she watched him slam her back against it, and hike up her skirt. It was like watching a train wreck. At least they were enjoying themselves.

 

After a few minutes of dry humping, Bev pushed him back and pulled a bobby pin from her hair. Kneeling down, she used it to unlock the Jeep, and they crawled inside, closing the door behind them. Within seconds, the thing was rocking like crazy. Clara snorted and shook her head as she stepped down from the stool,

 

“Wow. Just. Wow...”

 

Heading back through the dance hall, she took the side exit and walked back to her car. Sitting down in the driver's seat, she sat there a moment and smiled to herself,

 

“Well, Oswald. You did it. You held it together, and now, history is headed down the proper course.”

 

Reaching up, she grabbed the steering wheel and pushed back against her seat. She felt a sadness wash over her and swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes began tearing up,

 

“So, why are you cryin'?”

 

She wiped her eyes carefully, as not to smear her makeup and bit her lip. At first, she thought she'd be fine. That she could just brush the whole thing off and not think about it. But she couldn't. She closed her eyes and shook her head, slamming her head down against the wheel. She missed the Doctor. She missed the travelling, their adventures. She missed her friends and her family. She missed Danny and the way they used to stay in on the weekends, laughing about old movies and grading papers together. And more than anything right now, she missed a particularly obnoxious red-head, who's hair looked like fire when it caught the dying sun.

 

She missed the what-could-have-beens, the what-should-have-beens...the what-would-never-be's as she was now stuck here, trapped forever in the past. And when she closed her eyes, her heart ached, because she could see it all passing her up all at once, blurring by with the speed and ferocity of a graffiti-ridden, 1979 Trans Am. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, but when she finally did, she wiped off her makeup and looked in the rear view mirror,

 

“This is your life now, Oswald,” she whimpered, sniffling as she straightened, “Get used to it.”

 

A gasp escaped her as the passenger door suddenly flew open and Bev hopped in, drenched in sweat and panting as she ducked into the seat,

 

“We have to go!”

 

“What? Why, what's happening?” Clara frowned, glancing in to the mirror.

 

Party Poison was stood at the exit door. Eyes wide, she glanced down at Bev and shook her head,

 

“Why are you running from him!?”

 

“Just go!! Please,” Bev begged, peeking over her seat as Clara started the car. She peeled out of the parking space and pulled out of the lot going 50mph, and Bev squealed with laughter as she flopped back against the seat.

 

Clara watched Poison run out into the road behind them. For a minute, he ran after them, but soon tired out and stopped. He looked defeated.

 

“Why did you run off?” Clara frowned as they reached the stop light, “Did the talk not go well?”

 

“No,” Bev giggled, biting her nails nervously, “It went _very_ well...”

 

“Oh?”

 

The doe-eyed woman sat up in her chair and grinned,

 

“We uh...we might have...done a few things... _extra_.”

 

“You slept with him,” Clara gasped in mock horror, “Didn't you?”

 

“Yes,” Bev whined, covering her face as she blushed, “Oh, Clara! Why did you let me do that!?”

 

“Me!?” Clara straightened, slamming on the gas as the light turned green, “I didn't _let_ you do anything! You went out there and spread those legs all by yourself.”

 

Bev squealed with laughter and kicked at the dash with her bare feet,

 

“I know, I know! I'm so bad! Oh, God!”

 

Clara swallowed hard as she glanced over at her, forcing a smile,

 

“Well, how was he? You can't just kiss and not tell...!”

 

“Compared to Richard, he was a dream,” Bev sighed, rolling down her window.

 

“So, he was good, then?”

 

“Oh, he was better than that,” she said, wistfully, “He was amazing. Like that feeling you get when the sun hits your skin for the first time after a long rain. When you thought you'd never see it shining again, but then there it is, brighter than you ever thought it could be. And it starts as a tingle way down in your toes, bubbling it's way up through you, until it hits your heart and you're smiling ear-to-ear, and the light is practically pouring out of you. That's what he feels like...”

 

“It sounds wonderful,” Clara breathed, eyes welling up again.

 

“It is,” Bev giggled, glancing up at her then, “Have you ever felt anything like that?”

 

“Yeah, I have” Clara nodded shortly, turning down Bev's street, “Once upon a time...”


	18. My Best Regards

_**April 28** _ _**th** _ _**, 1944** _

 

_“I hate him!”_

Clara raised an eyebrow at the voice on the other end of the phone and snorted,

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“ _He showed up at my house, Clara,_ ” Bev groaned through the line, _“I had to have dinner with him!”_

“Oh, no. What a tragedy.”

“ _It was! He humiliated me in front of my parents! I tried to get out of it. I've still got one essay left for my teaching course, but my father wouldn't let me leave the room. You know how gaga he is over men in uniform. 'Utmost respect, now, Beverly.' Well, he can have my respect when he damn well deserves it! I don't know what I was thinking before. There's no way he could be the author of my mystery napkin! Honestly, just being in the same room with him made my skin crawl.”_

“I know that feeling,” Clara snorted as she sat back against her chair, “I once knew a man that liked to swear too much, and drive his car way too fast. Made me wanna rip my hair out.”

“ _Ugh, why are men so obnoxious?”_

“I dunno. I'll tell you when I figure it out.”

 

~ø~

 

 _**May 25** _ _**th** _ _**, 1944** _

 

“Clara!”

Clara looked up from her seat on the park bench and smiled. Bev was running toward her excitedly. The woman sat down beside her, exhausted as she gasped for breath,

“I did it...!”

“You did what,” Clara snorted, “Run a 5k, just now?”

“No! No, nothing like that,” Bev laughed, shaking her head, “Though it feels like I did. My hearts beating so fast!”

“What did you do?”

Swallowing hard, Bev took a deep breath and giggled,

“I called Richard. And I broke it off. It's over, we're done.”

Clara's face lit up at the news and she threw her arms around her friend, squealing loudly,

“Oh, congratulations! I'm so happy for you!”

“Yeah,” Bev gasped, squeezing back, “Me, too! I feel so much better, now!”

“So, what are you gonna do, now,” Clara asked, pulling back with a smile, “Single life or...?”

“Well, Benny's troop is leaving on the train bound for Texas today for some extra training before they head off to Europe. My family will be going to give their goodbyes...and if I see Michael, I think I may tell him...”

“Really? I thought you _hated_ him,” Clara smirked, narrowing her eyes at Bev, “Obnoxious, wasn't that what you called him? Made your skin crawl?"

Bev squealed with laughter and slapped Clara's knee,

“I did! I did! But that was before...”

She sighed, trailing off as she gazed at the floor,

“I didn't tell you, did I? That he took me up to the Hollywoodland sign. Told me a million crazy stories. Time travelling and blue boxes flying through space! He's so strange! But not remotely in a bad way...just eccentric, you know? I can't imagine what's in that head of his... Do you know he told me he was born in 1992?”

“No kidding, you don't say,” Clara breathed, shaking her head with a sigh.

“He did,” Bev continued, not seeming to catch her sarcastic tone, “Tried putting me on with a million and one lines about the future, too. Apparently, some actor named Matt Damon is the hottest thing since sliced bread, but he won't be born until 1970. How insane is that? He actually expected me to believe him!”

“Well, maybe you should,” Clara said, shaking her head, “Maybe he is a time traveller. There's stranger things out there than time travellers. Hell, _I_ could be a time traveller! How would you know?”

Bev giggled at that and shook her head, shoving Clara gently,

“Stop! Clara, you're hysterical!”

Clara nodded slowly, heaving a sigh,

“Yeah, I'm friggin' _hilarious_.”

“Anyway, I should be going,” Bev said, standing up then and smoothing out her skirt,

“I've got to be headed to the station.”

“Okay! Good luck!”

 

-ø-

 

_You have no idea how happy I was to hear she'd finally dumped that loser, Richard. It's a shame you were leaving when she finally decided on it. The relief that washed over me! I worry about her that way, you know, same way I worry about you. She may be a fire ball, but she makes an awful lot of terrible decisions. You weren't one of them, though. Knowing the happiness you had in store for her really made me feel better._

 

-ø-

 

  _ **June 15**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1944**_

 

A knock at the front door drew Clara from her seat and she stepped over, checking the peep hole first and foremost. It was Bev. Quickly unlocking it, she opened it and greeted her with a smile,

“Bev? Hey, what's up?”

Bev burst into tears upon seeing her and bowed her head. In her arms, she clung to a familiar, pleather jacket, and Clara tensed, pulling her inside,

“Bev...? What happened? What's wrong?”

She led her over to the sofa where the woman continued to sob, unable to speak. She put her arms around her and forced a smile,

“C'mon, now...you're scarin' me. What's happened?”

Bev shook her head, and gasped for air,

“My brother's dead.”

Clara's mouth fell open at that and she held Bev tight,

“Oh, no....Oh, Bev, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...!”

She held the sobbing woman in her arms for a few minutes, until finally she had calmed down, then rose from her seat and offered a smile,

“I'll go make us some tea, and when I come back we can talk about it if you like.”

Bev nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes,

“Thank you...”

Clara swallowed hard as she stepped into the next room, leaning on the counter as she bit her lip. She couldn't imagine what Bev was feeling...though perhaps she could. A punch to the gut, losing someone you hold dear. She'd been there done that too many times to count. Putting the kettle on, she heard Bev call from the living room,

“Is it all right if I use your restroom?”

“Of course,” Clara smiled, stepping back out into the living room, “It's just down that hall to your right.”

Wiping her eyes again, Bev stood and headed in the direction of Clara's gesturing. Upon hearing the door close, Clara sighed and looked down at the couch. There is was, that old worn-out jacket of his, lying in a crumpled heap on her sofa.

Stepping over to it, she picked it up and looked at it, smiling fondly,

“Well, well...didn't expect to see you again.”

Running her fingers over the panels, she bit her lip and shook her head. It had almost been two years now. Two years since she'd last seen the Doctor; since she'd last seen Party Poison. Well, technically she had seen him two months ago, but that wasn't really him. Not the one she knew.

Pulling the jacket close to her heart, she closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh,

“Keep it together, Oswald...it's just a coat.”

“What're you doing?”

She quickly dropped the jacket at the sound of Bev's confused voice and spun around, laughing nervously,

“M-Me? No-Nothing! Nothing, I just...that's a really nice jacket. Is it yours?”

Bev shook her head, trudging back over to it with a sigh,  
“It's Michael's. He asked me to hold it for him before he shipped out. In fact, I have all of his belongings right here in my bag.”

She pulled out a pair of faded jeans, a ratty t-shirt, and a pair of old boots, as well as gloves and other odds and ends.

Bev smiled at them,

“They were the clothes off his back when he first got here. That's all he brought with him, he said. When news came that Benny had died at Omaha, my parents threatened to burn all of it, since he was serving under Michael when he died. Shot in the head, they told us. Said it was quick. So, that's comforting.”

Clara straightened, her eyes wide as she remembered back to Party Poison's nightmare,

“The soldier on the beach...”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Clara said quickly, shaking her head, “Nothing, just...that's awful. I'm sorry.”

“I was wondering,” Bev sighed, sniffling as she wiped her nose, “If it wouldn't be too much trouble for me to leave these here with you for safe keeping? I know you wouldn't burn them. And it would only be until he comes home.”

Clara's eyes widened at the woman's question and she straightened, swallowing hard,

“Well, um...well, yeah. Of course, I can hold onto them. I'd be happy to...”

“Are you sure? Because you don't have to! I could always ask one of the girls at the garage when I go to work later....”

“Don't be silly,” Clara laughed, taking the jacket, pants, and shirt, as well as the trinkets, in hand, “It's perfectly fine!”

Standing up, she walked over to the wooden chest by the far wall and set his clothes down inside, right next to hers.

“They'll be right here,” Clara smiled, turning to Bev with a wink, “Safe keeping.”

Bev nodded shortly, wiping her eyes as Clara came and sat back down beside her,

“Thank you.”

Putting an arm around her, Clara pulled the woman close and brushed a hand over her hair,

“You're welcome.

 

~ø~

 

 _**June 18** _ _**th** _ _**, 1945** _

 

“Clara, c'mon! The train's almost here!”

Bev giggled, dashing down the street toward the station. Clara smiled as she grabbed her hat, the wind nearly taking off with it. She darted after Bev, unable to keep up with her,

“You go on ahead! I'll catch up!”

Clara smiled as she watched Bev turn the corner and slowed down, sighing deeply as she leaned against the gate. Three years she'd been here, yet it felt as though it had taken a million to get to this moment. The moment where Bev finally got everything she'd ever wanted. The moment that changed Party Poison's life forever. It was exciting, to say the least. She was happy for them.

As she rose up to start again, a woman came tearing across the pavement toward her. Her eyes widened.

 

-ø-

 

_The Director is here. I don't know how, but she is..._

 

 _-_ ø-

 

Clara gasped as the woman collided with her, squeezing her arms tight as she looked, crazed and confused, into her eyes,

“Operator!?”

“N-No,” Clara swallowed hard, slowly trying to back up, “Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about--”

“You're the Operator,” the woman repeated, shaking her head, “The leader of the rebellion! You lead the Killjoys to the closest thing they had to victory during the Helium Wars, but were lost in the third year of Analog! You were said to be pregnant with the Chosen Child! The one who would save the desert! You're OSWin!”

“Operating System Windows?” Clara frowned, then nodded shortly, “Oh, _Oswin_ ! The _Operator_! I get it!! Oh my God, that's actually really clever.”

“You sheltered the lost ones during the dropping of the Pig Bomb! I was one of them! Please, tell me you remember that!! You have to remember me!! Please!”

Clara shook her head as she finally broke free of the woman and ran off quickly,

“I'm sorry, I don't! I really don't! You must have me mistaken for someone else! I'm sorry!”

“Please,” the woman shouted, chasing after her, “Please you have to know me!! Someone has to know me! I don't know how I got here!! Please!!”

 

-ø-

 

_I got away from her, but not before she rambled on something about 'the Operator'...? She must have me mistaken for someone else. Anyway, I hope you were able to avoid her, too. She seems ready to snap any minute._

 

 _-_ ø-

 

When she finally came to the station, she spied Bev and Party Poison in an embrace at the middle of the station. He was crying. They both looked so happy.

 

~ø~

 

 _**August 14** _ _**th** _ _**, 1945** _

 

Clara smiled as she heard the door open behind her and spun around. Out from behind the door stepped Bev in an all white dress, her hair done up with little daisies and veil pulled away from her face,

“Well? Do I look okay?”

Finding herself in tears, Clara laughed and embraced her friend with a smile,

“Of course, you look okay! You look beautiful!”

She then took a step back and shook her head,

“I don't know why I'm crying... I'm not the one getting married!”

Bev snorted at that and shook her head,

“That's okay, I'll cry with you.”

They shared a laugh and Clara shook her head, as she reached up and wiped Bev's tears away,

“I'm so happy for you.”

Bev nodded, biting her lip as she heard the piano start to play,

“Me, too...”

With a heavy sigh, Clara offered her a smile and started for the door,  
“Well, I guess I should go take my place, now. See you after.”

“Yeah...oh, and Clara!”

She turned as she reached the door, eyebrows raised curiously. Bev swallowed hard, voice cracking as she sighed,

“Thank you for making me stay at that dance.”

With a short nod, Clara turned and entered the church hall. She slowly walked the aisle down to her place in front. Party Poison stood with his back turned from the door. He was white as a sheet, petrified.

With a snort, she cleared her throat,

“Hey.”

He looked to her, blank look on his face. The lack of recognition in his eyes cut her like a knife. She forced a smile,

“That's my friend you're making off with. Better not hurt her, now. You won't live long enough to regret it.”

He grinned at that and nodded,

“Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say.”

 

-ø-

 

_Your wedding was beautiful. I wish the battery on my phone hadn't died, I would have filmed it for you! Subtly, of course, lest I be mistaken for a witch...again._

 

-ø-

 

Clara joined the congregation in watching the happy couple head to their car. Bev paused briefly to toss the bouquet back to the bridesmaids. It came straight for Clara. She jumped as three women came flying out of nowhere to catch it, but they all missed, and it wound up sailing right into Clara's face. She sneezed, letting it drop to the ground.

Looking up from the fallen bouquet, she watched them climb into their car and drive away, leaving the church behind in a hurry as the cluster tin cans tied to their bumper clacked against concrete.

 

-ø-

 

_And I suppose that's it. The end of my letter to you. I've nothing more to say, except, I wish you a happy life, however long that may be. I will never in a million years forget you, Party Poison._

 

_You were truly something else._

_Take care._

 

_My Best Regards,_

_Clara._

 

~ø~

 

Clara sighed as she trudged back to her apartment and took out her key. She decided to skip the reception. If Bev asked later, she'd just tell her she was feeling under the weather. She was a brilliant liar, after all. Her eyes widened as she reached for the knob, only to find the door already pushed open. Inching it open further, she looked inside the apartment to find it completely trashed. Swallowing hard, she turned on the light and stepped inside. Tables turned over, cushions and curtains slashed. The contents of the chest in the corner were strewn about the floor. Lucky, she'd given Bev Party Poison's things the day before, or Lord knows where they would have wound up and in what state.

She rushed over and searched through the piles. Her phone was missing.

“Looking for this?”

Clara spun around to see a hooded figure standing at her door holding up the missing tech. Her eyes widened as the figure pulled a gun from their belt and aimed it straight for her. It was a similar make to Party Poison's yellow one, except the colour was lavender with little white stars, and on the side were the words 'GO-GO' in bright red.

“Tell me how I can find the Doctor,” the figure demanded, “You know him, I know you do.”

“Why,” Clara said, swallowing hard, “What do you want with him?”

“What do I want?” the figure repeated, sounding aggravated. They fired a shot, which hit Clara in the stomach. She doubled over and fell to the ground. The figure stepped forward, glaring down at her with a snarl,

“I want to go home. What else would I want with him?”


	19. Run You Clever Boy And Remember

 

“Where is she, now?” Party Poison repeated, looking his wife square in the eyes, “Do you know?”

Bev shook her head,

“She went missing after our wedding.”

Poison straightened at that, his eyes wide as he shook his head,

“Missing?”

Bev nodded slowly,

“I called and called when she didn't show up for the reception. You told me, though, I know you don't remember, not to worry about it and that she probably just went home to rest. I tried again the next day and it was the same, so I went to her apartment. It was trashed, Michael. Everything was a mess, like it had been ransacked. I called the police and they exhausted every avenue, but the case went cold. There was no trace of her...”

He staggered to the wall and shook his head. His immediate thought was that she'd been touched again, sent back further in time to God knows where. That would explain why she was never found. Closing his eyes, he cursed and beat his fist to the wall,

“Dammit!”

Bev bit her lip and wiped her eyes, swallowing hard,

“She was my best friend, Michael. Believe me, I would do anything to have her back. Same as I would with you...”

He turned at feeling her arm on his shoulder. She was holding back tears, her whole body shaking,

“I don't want you to go, again. I want you here with me! Please, can't you just stay?”

Sighing deeply, he pulled her sobbing frame into his arms and held her tight. He wanted to, oh, how badly he wanted to.

She never have to feel like this again, if he did. But he had a date with destiny, one which he couldn't break.

Hearing the thunk of the mailbox outside, he kissed her temple and went to the door, throwing it open wide. The postman stood there, looking up from his parcels in stunned shock,

“Why, hello-- M-Mr. Milligram!?”

Poison eyed him up and down silently, grabbed the letters from the box and the rest from the startled man's arms. He then shoved the postman off the porch and shut the door, much to Bev's shock,

“ _Michael_!!”

He ignored her as he frantically thumbed through the stack of letters, some of which were for the house next door. He tossed them to the floor as he went, piece-by-piece, unsure of what he was looking for, but searching nonetheless.

Bev rushed to the door and opened it, helping the postman to his feet,

“I'm so sorry! I don't know what's got into him!”

“That's it...!”

She turned back, hearing him shout and frowned,

“What? Did you find something?”

He nodded and raised up a single letter,

“Here.”

Bev promptly let go of the postman, letting him drop back to the porch with a loud 'oof'. She closed the door behind her and bounced over to him, eyes wide,

“What is it?”

His hand shook as she took the pamphlet from him and he dropped the rest of the mail,

“I-I almost remember...”

“This is just a letter from your doctor,” Bev said, sighing deeply as she looked it over, “Checking up on you...”

“But it came from Stockton.”

“Yes, it did,” Bev nodded, “Because that's where they had you admitted.”

With a growl, he grabbed his head and ran his hands up through his hair,

“I _know_ that's where they had me admitted!”

“Then, what are you getting at?”

“While I was there,” he groaned, smacking his face a few times, “There's a memory, but I can reach it!!”

“A memory? Of what?”

“Oh, gee, I dunno, Bev,” he snarled, throwing his hands in the air, “If I fucking knew that, maybe I'd tell you!”

“Don't get snippy with me, Michael,” Bev said shortly, rolling her eyes, “If you're going to be an ass, you're going to go stand outside.”

“I'm always an ass, sweetheart,” he said and headed for the door, “And just so happens, the outdoors are my speciality.”

Throwing it open, he spotted the postman and shook his head,

“Get outta here already! Don't you have a route to finish?”

He bent down and gathered up the fallen mail and shoved it into the postman's face. The postman promptly stood and scurried away from their house, tripping over himself as he called over his shoulder,

“You people are crazy!”

Poison shot him the finger as he ran away, Bev hurrying over and pulling it down,

“Stop that, Michael! You're being a child!”

“I am not being a child,” Poison countered, rolling his eyes, “A child would have stuck their tongue out at him and pulled up their nostrils like a pig. Like this!”

He turned and stuck out his tongue at the fleeing mail carrier, and Bev quickly pulled him back into the house,

“Would you stop that!? What's gotten into you!? You're acting like a--”

“Like a _what_ , Bev?” he snapped, eyes wide, “Like a crazy person? Well, we been there, done that. You wanna admit me, again?”

“I was going to say _jerk_ ,” she said calmly, shaking her head as she stormed off into the kitchen.

He sighed as he heard sniffles coming from her direction and bit his lip. Trudging after her like a puppy with it's tail between it's legs, he entered the kitchen and stepped up behind her, putting a hand on her waist,

“Hey...”

She turned around and shook her head, looking away from him as he brushed the tears from her eyes,

“I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Looking up, she snorted and tried not to smile,

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

His mouth fell open as she began to giggle, and he let out a single laugh,

“Wow. Just wow. Really?”

She nodded, lacing her arms around his neck,

“Well, you've never owned up to anything before in your life! So, yeah. Yeah, I think you deserve that.”

Pulling him in, she gave him a peck on the lips, and brushed the strings of hair from his face,

“You've really changed, you know that?”

He frowned at her, raising an eyebrow,

“In a good way? Or a bad way?”

“A good way,” she said confidently, eyes welling with tears again, “A very, very good way.”

Poison pulled her close, again and squeezed her tight, eyes closed.

 

_' **“Beware of the statues!!”'**_

 

Jerking away from her suddenly, he whipped his head around, looking out each of the windows. There was nothing there. Bev frowned, seeing how tense he'd become and shook her head,

“What's happening? Are they back?”

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head, “No, I just...I just heard a voice.”

“What did it say?”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his head slowly,

“I don't...I don't know. I can't quite remember...”

 

_**'“Do you know him?”'** _

 

_**'“Him, who?”'** _

 

_**'”Exactly...!”'** _

 

With a growl, he stepped past her and over to the sink, leaning against the counter as he gazed out the window,

“Dammit! It's right there!”

“What? What is it that you see?” Bev asked, stepping up beside him, “Is it a memory?”

“Yes! Yes, it's a fucking memory,” he shouted, grabbing his hair and pulling it, “It's right there but I can't...”

Gently turning him to face her, Bev reached up and softly touched her fingers to his temples,

“Michael, close your eyes and calm down. Let it come to you...”

“But I can't--”

She immediately shushed him, doe-brown eyes going wide,  
“Just be quiet and let it come.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and focused on the touch of her hand.

 

-ø-

 

_Like an old movie flickering from a projector, he saw himself walking down the halls of the hospital, hands in his pockets and head bowed._

_He felt something grab his arm as he passed the janitor's closet and whatever it was pulled him inside. Through the grainy haze, he could make out the figure of a small framed woman in a hospital gown shutting the door, closing them both inside._

“ _ **What the hell--”**_

_She spun around quickly, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes widened as she grabbed his face. She smiled,_

“ _ **Party Poison...!”**_

 

-ø-

 

Poison's eyes shot open and he grabbed Bev's hands, squeezing them tight,

“That's why they zapped me. It wasn't because of the journal...it was because of her...”

He spun around, marching out of the room and toward the front door. Bev tensed and hurried after him, shaking her head,

“What? Michael, what did you see!?”

He threw open the door and stepped out on the porch. Bev came bounding up behind him and he spun on his heel, smirking,

“I know where Clara is.”

 

~ø~

 

_**August 15 th, 1945** _

 

Clara groaned as she opened her eyes, finding herself lying on a bed in a padded room. Sitting up, she looked down to see that she was now wearing a hospital gown. A searing pain shot through her stomach and she winced. It was tender to the touch.

“Hello, Operator.”

Clara's head snapped to attention at the sound of a voice and she swallowed hard. It was the Director, again.

“I'm Dr. Eri. I'll be treating you for the duration of your stay--”

“Wh-Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you just kill me?”

“Well, I've been here for a long time and my gun is almost out of charges,” Dr. Eri said, shaking her head, “Stun has less of a drain on the battery. And besides...if I killed you, how would I get any answers?”

“I don't know,” Clara shrugged, shaking her head, “'But you're sure as hell not gonna get anything from me.”

“Am I not?” the woman said, pulling a chair up beside the bed, “Well, we'll see about that.”

She pulled a syringe from her coat and grinned. Clara looked at it in terror,

“What...what is that?”

“Oh, this?” Dr. Eri grinned, “Why, it's just a little something I cooked up in the lab. An experimental serum...it's supposed to help you sleep, but there have been a few recorded side effects.”

“S-Side effects?” Clara stammered, swallowing hard.

“Oh, yes,” the woman replied, nodding shortly as she flicked the needle, “Mood swings. Panic attacks. Night terrors. Bouts of agitation. Psychotic break. Some of my patients even committed suicide, their reaction was so bad....”

Reaching out, she snatched Clara's arm up and grinned,

“Let's try it out, shall we? Perhaps you'll feel more inclined to talk after you've had a few _injections_.”

Clara flinched as Dr. Eri stabbed the needle down into her arm and emptied the syringe, her eyes going wide. It burned. She gaped at the injection site as the woman pulled the needle out, eyes wide in horror. Dr. Eri then stood and turned for the door,

“I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're doing. Perhaps you'll be more cooperative, then?”

Reaching the doorway, she glanced back at Clara and smiled,

“Have fun.”

 

~ø~

 

_**September 13 th, 1946** _

 

“Michael, wait!”

Party Poison spun around as he reached their front gate, raising an eyebrow as Bev followed him out the door,

“What are you doin'?”

She marched after him, soon passing him by as she opened the gate and stepped out onto the walk,

“I'm coming with you. What does it look like?”

The red head straightened as she started down the pavement to the neighbour's house,

“You're what? Who's gonna watch Pete!?”

She hopped up the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. A small, elderly woman stepped out from the quaint little home, and smiled upon seeing Bev,

“Oh, Beverly! Hello! How are you, dear?”

“I'm very fine, Mrs. O'Donoghue,” she smiled, pointing at Party Poison, “But it's my husband. I...I think he may be having another breakdown and I need to get him back to the doctor as soon as possible. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind terribly watching our son for a few hours, while I take care of him...?”

“Why, of course, Beverly,” the old woman exclaimed, taking Bev by the arm, “Of course I wouldn't mind! You go, see to your husband! His health is important you know...”

She looked up as they approached him, her eyes going wide,

“Oh my. You weren't kidding, were you?”

Party Poison frowned as Bev led the old woman to their door, helping her inside before trotting back out.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. O'Donoghue! I'll tell you how it goes!”

Closing the door, she skipped back over to him and pulled her car keys from the pocket of her purse,

“Okay, let's go.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Hmm? Nothing,” Bev smiled, shrugging as she climbed into the driver's seat, “Nothing at all.”

“Yes, you did. She looked at me funny!”

“Oh, Michael, she's old. She looks at everyone funny.”

 

~ø~

 

They made it to the hospital within the hour. Pulling up across the street, Bev put the car in park and nodded shortly,

“All right. So, what now?”

Poison glanced up at the building and swallowed hard,

“Well...now, I go get her out of there.”

He grabbed the door handle and pulled, Bev quickly grabbing his arm,

“Michael, wait!”

Turning back, he raised an eyebrow,

“What?”

“Is this it?” she breathed, eyes beginning to water, “Tell me. Is this where you...where we...?”

Silently, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, holding her there a few moments. Upon breaking away, he sniffled and pressed his head to hers,

“I love you. You know that.”

She nodded quickly,

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Once I get out of this car,” he said, swallowing hard, “I want you to turn around and go home. Be with Pete. He needs you, now.”

She shook her head,

“No...!”  
“Bev, I don't know what's gonna happen in there,” he whimpered, “And if it all goes South, I don't want you anywhere near here, do you understand?”

He kissed her head, squeezing her tight,

“This is goodbye, now...okay? But not the forever kind. 'Cause I'm always gonna be with you, no matter what...you know that right?”

Bev nodded, kissing him again, over and over, as she sobbed softly,

“I do...I do...!”

With the last kiss, she rested her cheek against his and hiccuped softly,

“I'll love you for the rest of my life...there will never be anyone else.”

Pulling back, he swallowed hard and offered her a smile as he brushed the tears from her cheek,

“Same.”

Turning away, he stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him. He pressed his hand to the window and looked at her one last time. She reached up and pushed hers to it as well, hand in the shadow of his.

It took everything in him to force himself away from that car.

“I love you,” he said and tore his eyes away from her.

He marched toward the hospital, expression hard as stone. Nothing would stop him, now.

In fact, he doubted there was anything that could.

 

~ø~

 

Clara Oswald was tired.

The door to her room opened with a creak and in stepped a team of candy-striped nurses, wheeling a tray in behind them. Dr. Eri came in behind them, waving them all out after a moment. As they disappeared, the woman shut the door behind her and locked it,

“Hello, Operator. How are we feeling today?”

Clara said nothing, instead she continued to gaze at the sky, making soft 'whooshing' noises under her breath.

Her arms were bandaged from the wrists to her elbows, from bouts of intense, fitful scratching, so she had taken to scratching at her legs instead. They were red from the motion, and in some spots, the skin was beginning to peel away. Her eyes were red from crying, her voice hoarse from screaming. There was a bruise on her forehead from where she had been slamming it into the window, the walls, and the door. Her hair was a frazzled mess.

She looked ready to break at any moment.

With a sigh, Dr. Eri took out a syringe and shook her head,

“This would be so much easier if you would just tell me how I can find the Doctor. I just want to go home Clara. I've lived through hell, being here. I deserve a happy ending after all my strife.”

“You don't deserve _anything_ ,” Clara hissed, eyes locked on the trees outside, “Nobody _deserves_ anything. Not anything...never, ever.”

Taking her arm, Dr. Eri jabbed the needle in and injected her with another dose of the serum. Clara no longer flinched when she did this. It as if she'd grown accustomed to the procedure. Setting the syringe back down on the tray, Dr. Eri leaned forward and brushed her hand through Clara's hair,

“You know I've been here a long time. Long enough to go through medical school twice over. When I left the Zones I was about your age....now, I'm nearly 40. I have lost so much, I just want it back. And believe me, I _will_ get it out of you. I will find the Doctor and he will take me home.”

“What makes you think I know him?” Clara sighed, losing her breath as the drug began taking effect.

Silently, the woman raised up a letter, one that was designated to be delivered on November 23rd, 2015.

“This.”

Clara's eyes widened and she shook her head,

“How did you...?”

“I had to pay my way through school somehow, Operator. And the mail room was perfect for my busy schedule. So, I applied and got the job. And just as I was about to quit? This letter came down the chute. A letter to the Doctor, from you.”

“You stole my mail...?” Clara snarled, rolling her eyes, “That's...that's illegal...”

“So, are half the operations we perform at this facility,” Dr. Eri countered, offering a smile, “Or at least they will be in the next ten years. As for right now, I could perform any one of them on you and no one would bat an eyelash. Insulin shock therapy? Electric shock? Lobotomy? All I need do is sign the paperwork and you're done. But I won't if you cooperate.”

With a growl, Clara spat directly in the woman's eye and shook her head,

“It's people like _you_ that make others afraid of seeking help when they need it. You're disgustin'.”

Dr. Eri wiped her eye with a laugh and glared Clara down, eyes narrowed,

“You have no _idea_ what fear is.”

Rising up, the woman turned and left the room, allowing the candy-stripers to come in and collect the equipment.

As soon as they'd all gone, Clara burst into tears, rocking back and forth as she tried to soother her tears. The distant sound of the TARDIS engine whirred in her ears and she looked up, gasping in shock. There it flew, up through the sky, sailing far and fast away from her as it soared up and up toward the clouds. Swallowing hard, she smiled through her tears and laughed. Pressing a hand to the window, she let out a trembled whisper,

“Run....Run you clever boy...and remember....”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her head to the window,

“Just remember me....please remember me....!”

The room fell silent. No one would remember her, not here, not now. She would die here and no one would ever know...not her father, not her grandmother. Not her students, nor would Bev. Not Party Poison.

Not even the Doctor would know what became of her.

She was all alone.

A sudden banging against the window made her jump and she straightened. A gloved hand lined up with hers through the glass, and she followed it slowly, finding it led to a handsome face framed by a shock of scraggly fire-engine hair. His hazel eyes glittered brightly as she met them and he smiled. His muffled shout brought her to tears,

“ _Clara_!!”

 


	20. Shoot the Bird

 

Jack paced the floor, glancing up at the monitor as he passed it for the fiftieth time,

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 7'o'clock. Pacific Standard Time,” the Doctor groaned, “And ten minutes since the last time you asked.”

“It's nearly been 20 minutes,” the blue-eyed soldier said, shaking his head, “He's been gone way too long.”

Charging up beside the Doctor, Jack shook his head,

“We need to go back there, we need to find them.”

“And where exactly is _there_? Where do you suggest we start looking, Jack? If you have any suggestions as to a time period they may be in, then I would very much like to hear it.”

A knock on the door drew their attentions and Jack frowned, hurrying over to answer it,

“Maybe that's them...”

Upon opening it, he was startled to find a man standing there clad in roller skates and polka dot leggings. He looked him up and down, immediately smiling,

“Well, hello, there--”

“ _No_ ,” the Doctor immediately shouted, shooing Jack away from the visitor, “Stop that!”

Leaning on the door frame, the Doctor shook his head and sighed, looking up into the man's helmet,

“Show Pony, I suggest the next time you find yourself in the cross hairs of this,” he motioned toward Jack with a look of disgust and annoyance, “Walking cesspool of venereal disease, that you turn and skate off in the opposite direction.”

“Hey,” Jack shouted, hands on his hips, “I was just saying hello!”

The Doctor snorted, looking at Jack in disbelief,

“Sure you were.”

Show Pony ignored their banter, instead motioning for them toward the Diner. Nodding shortly, the Doctor pointed outside,

“You want us to follow you?”

Show Pony nodded. Dr. Death Defying sat waiting in the doorway.

Shuffling forward, the Doctor headed over to him, hawkish brow raised curiously,

“Don't tell me. You know exactly where they are.”

“I have an inkling,” D replied, raising up a yellowed envelope.

Snatching it from his hand, the Doctor opened the letter and looked inside. It was from Clara.

“ _Hello, Doctor. It's me, Clara,”_ he began, skimming over the letter, “ _I don't expect I'll be seeing you again, so, in approximately 73 years...”_

Jack's eyes widened,

“73 years...that would put her somewhere in the 40's.”

Nodding shortly, the Doctor gave the letter a lick and gagged,

“ _76 years_ , actually. This letter is from approximately 1943. Tastes like September. Chalk dust and snotty nose rags.”

“You can taste the date?” Dr. Death Defying cringed, “What are you, a dog?”

“There is only one problem here,” the Doctor said, waving the letter at Jack, “Michael cannot go back to 1943. He already lived in 1943, to send him back to the same time as Clara would risk creating a paradox should he touch himself, and believe me, knowing how Michael likes to get his jollies, I wouldn't put it _passed_ him.”

Dr. Death Defying smirked, and shook his head,

“The boy's kinks are widely known throughout this desert, Doctor, but I think he's a bit smarter than you're givin' him credit for.”

“Smart and horny are two traits that hardly ever coincide, _Doctor_ ,” the Doctor said shortly, “And I think we both know where Michael's mind is 90% of the time.”

The Doctor sighed as he placed the letter back in the envelope and handed it to Jack,

“I need you to take this to the TARDIS. Run a scan on it, and get back to me, her precise location at the time this was written.”

“What about Mike?” Jack said, swallowing hard.

The Doctor kept his eyes on Dr. Death Defying, as he took a deep breath,

“When I get to the bottom of that mystery, I'll let you know.”

Jack nodded as he took the letter and headed back out to the TARDIS. Once he'd disappeared inside, the Doctor turned to D and stooped down, glaring him directly in the shades,

“All right. I've had enough of these games. It's time for the truth. No more lies. No more omissions.”

D raised an eyebrow at that, pulling back as far as he could as the Doctor swooped his face in close.

“How?” the Doctor asked, seeing only himself reflected in the plastic.

“How, what?”

“I think you know what I'm asking,” the Doctor swallowed hard, “You're not stupid and neither am I. Tell me how.”

“I don't know what you're talking about—”

“I think you do,” the Doctor shouted, grabbing hold of the arms of D's chair. Show Pony skated forward and grabbed him by the arm, preparing to pull him away, but D waved him down,

“It's all right. Let him go.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, breath heavy as he searched the man's face for an answer,

“You had no reaction. To my face.”

“I lived in Hollywood once upon a time. Plastic surgery's nothing new to me.”

“Yes, well, I believe this,” the Doctor motioned to himself, “Is a little bit different than your run of the mill plastic surgery. Every single cell in my body has changed, my voice, my mannerisms, everything! But you knew me straight away! And I know you, don't I?”

“What does it matter what you know--”

“Because,” the Doctor hissed, “Because if there is any chance that my friend _doesn't_ walk to his death tomorrow, I want to hear about it. So, go on. Tell me. You have my full attention...and I know you've got the answer.”

D sighed and shook his head,

“You and I both know how tomorrow ends. You saw the footage for yourself...”

“But _you_ didn't,” the Doctor said, swallowing hard, “I never even told you there was footage to be seen. How can you possibly know about something that hasn't happened yet--”

“The boys die tomorrow, _Doctor,_ ” D said coldly, “And that includes Party Poison. You can't rewrite history.”

The Doctor's face fell at D's frigid answer, but he shook his head,

“Then, explain to me how _you're_ here, now.”

Swivelling the chair away from him, D turned and faced the empty Diner booths,

“September 13th. 1946. You'll find Clara at Stockton State Hospital.”

“And you know that, how?”

“Just go, _Doctor_. Before it's too late.”

The Doctor straightened, eyes wide at the man's ominous message. Turning away slowly, he let out a sigh,

“This isn't over. I'll get to the bottom of this. Whatever _this_ is.”

“You know, I reckon you will,” D said, a sad sound to his voice.

Heading back across the dusty lot, the Doctor entered the TARDIS and hurried to the console beside Jack.

“The paper analysis says it was written around 10am on September 30th of 1943,” Jack said, shaking his head, “10th Street Elementary School--”

“Yes, yes, never mind where it was written. She isn't there, now. She's at Stockton State Hospital. September 13th, 1946.”

“So, why did you need to know where the letter was written, then?” Jack growled, exasperated.

“Why not?” the Doctor said simply, “I like knowing. Knowing is nice. If I could know everything, I would. The more you know, the better.”

He flicked a few switches and pulled down the lever, turning his gaze to the pillar as it began to pump.

“Ironic statement coming from someone who likes to leave people in the dark,” Jack snorted.

The Doctor scowled at him.

 

~ø~

 

Clara gasped as his face appeared in her window, eyes wide as saucers. She pressed her hands to the glass. They fit perfectly in the shadows of his. Her lip quivered as he smiled at her. Was he real? Or was she hallucinating, again? Hallucinating like she had been ever since she'd been trapped here. Those injections were worse than the mask.

“ _I'm gonna get you out of there! Just sit tight!!”_

He said, voice muffled by the thickness of the wall between them. Then, he ran off and she pressed her face to the glass, trying her best to see where he had gone. But he disappeared. She couldn't see anything.

Maybe he'd been just another vision. Another figment of her imagination. She closed her eyes and sat back against the wall, curling her legs up against her,

“Please be real,” she said, whispering softly, “Please, please, please. Just this once!”

 

~ø~

 

 

Poison headed around to the front of the building, which in hindsight was probably a bad idea. Any of the doctors would be able to see him. They'd recognise him coming in. He cursed. There had to be some way he could get inside without being seen. Glancing behind him, he spotted a man in a trench coat and fedora approaching the building. Licking his lips, he grinned, and started toward him, pulling out his gun,

“Hello, sir,” he began, approaching the man with a polite nod and a forced grin, “Would you spare a moment to hear about our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ?”

The man shot him a puzzled look as Poison strolled right up to him and grabbed the lapel of his jacket. Pressing the nozzle of the gun to the man's gut, Poison narrowed his eyes,

“'Cause you'll be meetin' him real soon, unless you hand over that coat and hat, right now.”

The man scoffed at Poison's threat, seeing the bright yellow pistol, and shook his head,

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Offended, Party Poison glanced over at the nearby bench, where a raven sat perched on the back. Aiming the gun, he fired, watching it burst with a shriek into a cloud of black dust and feathers.

Turning back to the now terrified man, he let out a forced fit of laughter, before turning his face to stone,

“Funny, right?”

The man immediately did as Poison had said, and handed him the items, stuttering madly,

“P-P-Please, don't kill me!”

“I'm not gonna kill you,” Poison said, taking the items under his arm, “So long as you turn around, head back to your car and go home. Pretend like this never happened.”

“I-I-I can't go home,” the man shook his head eyes wide, “I've patients in there needing treatment.”

Glancing down at the coat, Poison spotted the badge that had fallen from it's pocket and onto the ground. His name was Dr. Sharpe. His eyes widened. The badge claimed he was in charge of Electroshock Therapy.

With a smirk, Poison shook his head and propped the gun under the man's chin,

“Not anymore you don't.”

The man flinched, crying out in fright as Poison leaned in close and yelled 'Bang' into his ear.

Poison snickered as he spotted the wet spot developing on the man's khakis and he snarled, shaking his head,

“Go home. To your wife or kids or whoever the fuck you have waiting for you there. Go home, do not come back, and you won't die today. Capisce?”

The man said nothing, just turned tail and ran, and Poison swallowed hard,

“Right. Yeah. He's gonna call the Feds.”

Spinning on his heel, he ducked into the bushes nearby and put the coat and hat on. His hair stuck out slightly at the bottom, but there was nothing he could do for it. He would just have to have faith that no one would notice.

Stepping back out onto the pavement, he put his gun back in it's holster and buttoned up the coat all the way. Popping the collar, he started forward, making sure to scoop the badge up off the floor. He pinned it to the lapel and shoved his hands into his pockets, heading to the entrance.

 

~ø~

 

Girl sighed as the four of them sat in D's ghost station, glancing around. She spotted many variations of Mousekat, from figurines to buttons, to laminated cel animations posted on the wall. Shaking her head, she turned to Fun Ghoul and cringed,

“Why's D got so much of this crap in his station? It's weird...”

Ghoul shrugged, glancing around as well,

“I dunno. Same reason Poison turned the mascot head into a rebreather, I guess.”

“To creep people out?” Girl said, heaving a heavy breath, “Cause he's doin' a good job...if that's the case.”

They all straightened at the sound of a shout outside.

“ _Witness said they came down this way! Search the perimeter!”_

Jet Star and Kobra Kid exchanged concerned glances. Kid shook his head, whispering softly,  
“How did they know we were here?”

“I don't know,” Jet replied, readying his gun. He looked at Fun Ghoul and swallowed hard,

“Ghoul, get ready to run. If they get closer, take Girl and get out of here.”

“And leave you guys to rot?” Ghoul said, eyes wide, “No way in hell! I'm not doin' that!”

“Yes,” Jet Star forced, shaking his head, “You are.”  
“But why--”

“Because I _said_ so,” Jet seethed, holding his breath as they heard more shouting outside.

“ _Check in that building over there! Leave no stone unturned!”_

Girl's eyes widened as Kid and Jet ushered the two of them toward the back door and shoved them outside, Kid nodding shortly,

“Keep her safe.”

Hesitantly nodding, Ghoul took Girl's hand and ran on down the rocky hillside beside the station and away from the coming swarm of Draculoids.

 

~ø~

 

Party Poison pulled the collar of his coat up around his face as he strolled through the entrance. He would have to find her quickly before the police arrived. Heading up to the front desk, he coughed, tipping the hat down further as he offered the clerk sitting there a smile,

“Hello,” he said, putting on a deep, slow voice, “I'm looking for a patient. Name's Clara Oswald. I was told to come evaluate her for a trial run of Shock Therapy treatments.”

The clerk nodded, entirely uninterested in his explanation, and flipped through her log book.

“Room 109.”

Poison straightened, eyes widening as he pulled the hat up a bit and looked over the counter at the log book for himself. Sure enough, the name Clara Oswald was scribbled in cursive beside the RM. 109. He shook his head,

“That's it. You're not gonna ask for I.D...nothing?”

“Why should I?” the clerk snorted, nodding to his coat, “You've got your badge on, Dr. Sharpe.”

He straightened and laughed, nodding with a smile,

“R-Right! Of course I do! I always...wear my badge. Badges are cool, y'know, they let people know who you are. Definitely would not be wearing one that _wasn't_ mine.”

He cringed at the words that had just flooded from his mouth, tipped the hat kindly to her, and hurriedly walked away.

The signs at the end of the hall told him that Room 109 was a few doors down, and to the left. He followed them quickly, arriving at his destination within seconds. He took a deep breath. Clara was just beyond this door.

Grabbing the knob, he turned it hard and cursed. It was locked.

“Of course,” he grumbled, shaking his head as he glanced up and down the hall. Nearby, there was a nurse wheeling her cart of medications from door to door. He jogged over to her and offered a smile,

“Hello, miss? I'm real sorry to disturb you,” he said, again putting on the voice, “But, I seem to have lost the key to my patient's room. You wouldn't happen to have a master key by any chance, would you?”

She looked him over, eyebrow raised curiously at his appearance. He made sure to jut his chest out so that she could see his badge. After a moment or two of silent gawking, the woman shrugged and trudged over to the door, raising her key ring. Poison watched as she unlocked the door, and turned the knob, opening it for him,

“Here you go.”

“Really?” he snorted, shaking his head, “Nothing? You're not even a little curious?”

“Nope,” she said simply, waddling back to her cart and strolling away.

He stood there in awe for a second, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh,

“And they wonder why so many people died in dumps like this.”

Hurrying to the door, he pushed it wide open and stepped inside. There she sat on the bed, head buried in her arms as she rocked herself slowly back and forth, whispering softly, a song he knew by heart.

“ _I'll be seeing you...in all the old familiar places...that this heart of mine embraces...all day through...in that small café...the park--”_

“Clara.”

Her head shot up at the sound of his voice. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, overflowing with tears as she raised her gaze to meet his. She just sat there, frozen. He removed the hat from his head and swallowed hard. She didn't look right.

“Clara...are you there?”

Seeing his red hair lit something in her eyes and the emotionless expression on her face turned to a tearful smile as she laughed,

“Oh, it's you! Is it time again, already?”

“Again?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed, popping up from the bed and wiping her eyes as she took the hat from his hands,

“To have tea. With the Doctor and Danny.”

“Clara--”

“Oh, come off it,” she giggled, setting the hat on her head, “We have tea all the time! Every day at 4'o'clock. We have tea in the TARDIS and we go on adventures. See?”

She motioned to the clock on her wall. It was 3:45pm.

Turning to him, she giggled, and looked at the door,

“You're early today. But just by a little bit. I'm sure the Doctor and Danny will be here soon.”

“Who's Danny?” Poison asked, shaking his head, “Clara--”

“Oh, stop pissin' around,” Clara laughed, slapping him on the arm, “Danny's my boyfriend! You know that! You've met him already! A million times!”

She frowned and slapped him again, eyes wide. Over and over, she patted his chest, shaking her head curiously,

“I don't understand. I can...I can touch you.”

She grabbed his shoulders, and feeling her way down his arms until her hands finally met his. She squeezed them gently. He squeezed back.

“Oh my God,” she bit her lips as she gazed at their hands, “I'm touching you.”

Turning her eyes back to his face, she sniffled, gasping softly as she reached up and touched his face,

“You are....you're really here this time. You're real...!”

He pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight. She clawed at the coat, burying her face in it as she fell into a fit heart wrenching sobs. He grabbed her head and cradled it, shushing her softly,

“It's okay...it's okay, you're safe, now. You're gonna be fine.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Clara smiled and let out a sigh of relief,

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you...!”

“Believe me,” he breathed, brushing a hand over her hair, “I do. I really, really do...”

“Is the Doctor with you?” she gasped, wiping her eyes as she pulled back from him. Hesitating at first, he shook his head,

“No. No, Doc didn't come.”

“So, you're alone?” Clara frowned, “You came here all by yourself?”

Party Poison nodded.

“You let the angel touch you, again,” she breathed, gaping up at him in shock. He swallowed hard,

“Yeah.”

Turning away from her, he glanced out into the hallway and shut the door as she began shrieking,

“Why!? Why would you do that!? Do you have any idea how stupid and reckless that was!? It could've sent you anywhere--”

“Well, it didn't.”

“But it could have! And for what!? You could lose everything, Party Poison, and for what!?”

“For you, Clara,” he shouted back, eyes wide, “That's for _what_!!”

Clara winced at that and clenched her fists, shaking her head,

“Well, I never asked you to come here. I never asked you to risk your life--!”

“You never had to,” Poison said shortly. She straightened as he stepped right up to her, gazing up at his eyes curiously.

He smiled, brushing the tears from her cheeks,

“I would have done it, anyway.”

After a moment, he coughed, shrugging with a snort,

“And it's not really a risk if you know what you're doing, right?”

Clara nodded shortly at that,

“So, what are we doing?”

“Getting out of here,” he smirked, raising up his wrist. She grinned at seeing the Vortex Manipulator and quickly took his arm,

“Then, let's do it! Let's go!”

Smirking, he reached up and slammed his thumb down on the button. Clara glanced around, beaming brightly in excitement. She was more than ready to get the hell out of there.

But nothing happened. They weren't leaving.

She looked to him, her eyes wide as he frantically smashed the button down, again and again,

“What is it? Why aren't we leaving? What's wrong? Party Poison...?”

He swallowed hard. The Manipulator was out of power.

They were stuck.


	21. Leap of Faith

 

Dr. Death Defying sighed as he looked up at the sky. The sun was just beginning to set. He continued to gaze at it, swallowing hard as a warm breeze blew through the dusty lot.

“Should be home any minute, now...”

He said. There was a sadness in his voice that weighed heavy on the air.

 

~ø~

 

Clara straightened as she watched Poison hit the button, again and again, and stepped back from him,

“It's not workin'...we're stuck here.”

Poison glanced over at her and shrugged,

“Nah...this is just a setback. Trust me. Doc'll fix this.”

“How?” she bit her lip, eyes beginning to fill up with tears, “How can he fix this? He isn't even here!”

“He's not here, now, but he will be,” Poison shot back, rubbing his head tiredly.

Clara shook her head,

“How? How do you know?”

He froze, saying nothing. Clara swallowed hard and wiped her eyes,

“You see? There it is. You don't know. You have no plan, no strategy. And the Doctor....”

She strolled over to the bed and sat down again, gazing down at the floor,

“I've trapped you here. You're stuck here because of me.”

Sighing, Party Poison knelt down in front of her, hands on her knees as he looked up into her eyes,

“I chose to come here after you, okay? This is what I wanted. And do you know what? I got to hold my son, again, because of that choice. I got to kiss my wife. So, you've got nothing to feel guilty for.”

Clara's eyes lit up at that and she laughed,

“You saw Bev and Pete?”

He nodded slowly, then rose up and pulled her into a hug,

“Thank you for watching out for her.”

With a smile, she pulled back and tucked some of his vibrant hair behind his ear,

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Licking his lips, he nodded and shot her a grin.

“Doc'll be here,” he pressed, “We'll get you home. Don't give up, okay?”

She nodded slowly and wiped her eyes.

Climbing to his feet, he walked over to the door and checked the hall. There was a nurse at the end of the corridor, and a few patients roaming about. Sighing, he closed the door again and hurried over to her, taking off the coat,

“Okay...here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna put you in this coat and walk outta here. Grab a taxi, head back to my house, and we'll wait for Doc there.”

She nodded as he helped her slide her arms into the sleeves. The coat was much too big for her, and coupled with the hat on her head, she looked insanely comical; like a small child wearing her father's clothes.

Taking her hand, he led her to the door and stepped out first,

“Okay, the coast is clear. C'mon...”

She stepped out behind him, coat hem sweeping across the floor. He jumped as she suddenly let out a pitiful yelp, eyes wide as he spun around to face her,  
“What are you doing!? You're gonna get us caught!”

She shook her head, looking passed him down the hallway,

“They're back. They're back...”

“Who's back!?” he hissed, glancing behind him. The patients in the hall were staring at them.

Clara whimpered and grabbed the brim of the hat, shaking her head,

“You see 'em, right? You see 'em down there! Just starin' at me!”

Party Poison shook his head,

“Clara, there's nothing there. What are you talking about?”

“The shoppe mannequins...” she whispered, cowering behind his arm, “You don't see them?”

His eyes widened and he turned around, eyes widening as he spotted a familiar face standing at the end of the hall. Her raven hair was still long, tied back into a ponytail. She only looked slightly older than she had the day the Angels had taken her.

He swallowed hard,

“Go-Go...?”

She looked as startled as he did.

Clara let out another cry and tugged his arm, pleading,

“Please, Party Poison, we have to go...! C'mon...!”

Snapping out of the trance, Poison quickly took her hand and started down the hall in the opposite direction.

Go-Go called after them,

“S-Stop them!”

Poison quickly halted as a doctor emerged from a room at the end of the hall, accompanied by a nurse. They ran straight for them. Seeing the stair well door beside them, Clara darted for it, dragging Poison along behind her. They both ran for the side exit, and Clara pushed at it, cursing softly,

“It's locked!”

The stair well door burst open then, and Poison whirled around, aiming his ray gun at the nurse running toward them. Clara shrieked and pushed his hand up,

“No, don't!”

The gun went off, leaving a black, burn mark on the wall beside the nurse's head. They stopped in their tracks.

Taking him by the arm, Clara dragged him up the stairs, climbing up the next four flights to the roof.

 

~ø~

 

Bev sighed as she sat in the silence, gazing at her hands on the steering wheel. She took a breath and started the car, pulling out from the curb and down the street. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, she could see the hospital looming, as well as the growing crowd at it's base. She didn't pay it much mind and kept driving forward. That was until the police cars zoomed passed her. Eyes wide, she pulled over again and parked, climbing out to have a look. Nurses and patients alike were rushing across the lawn, as she approached and she quickened her step, glancing around curiously.

Seeing a nurse nearby, she hurried over to her and called out,

“Excuse me, ma'am? What's going on? Why are the police here?”

“There's a man with a gun going on a rampage inside,” the nurse said as Bev stepped up beside her, “He's taken one of the patients as a hostage--!”

“ _There they are,”_ shouted a distressed patient a few feet away, _“On the roof!”_

Bev raised her gaze and covered her mouth, eyes wide as she shook her head,

“Gracious...”

 

~ø~

 

Reaching the top, they found the door to the roof unlocked and ran out quickly. Clara shook her head, whirling around to him as she made it to the edge,

“Are you crazy!? Trying to shoot one of those things!?”

“Things!? Do you mean the fucking _nurse_!?”

“No! I mean the bloody mannequin in the stair well, just now!! They've an automatic mechanism that if attacked they're hands turn into guns--”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Poison growled, shaking his head at her, “What mannequin!?”

“The one you just tried to bump off,” Clara shrieked, slapping him in the chest as he drew near her, “My mum did the exact same thing! In the town square! One of those things came out the window, went after a little girl. She attacked it with a pipe and it shot her!! It shot her with it's machine gun hands--!”

Grabbing her by the face, he held her head still and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, as if she'd been drugged.

“Clara, there are no mannequins here,” he assured her, brushing a hand over her hair as he smiled at her, “Okay? Nobody here has machine guns for hands, as spectacular as that would be. Those were just people.”

She straightened at his words, eyes wide in horror,

“Then, why would you shoot at them?”

Poison froze.

“Party Poison!!”

They both turned as the door burst open, and Poison stepped in front of Clara as Go-Go appeared in the door way, two armed policeman behind her. She waved them back and shut the door behind her, stepping out onto the rooftop alone. She heaved a sigh and smiled,

“I knew you'd be here. I knew you'd come.”

There were tears in her eyes as she inched closer to them, continuously glancing back at the door to make sure the police weren't coming through.

“Tell me you brought the Doctor with you,” she whispered, “Tell me he's here and we can go home, now...”

Poison swallowed hard, glancing back as Clara squeezed his hand,

“What is it? Is she a mannequin, too?”

Clara shook her head.

“Then, what is it?” he asked, “What's wrong?”

“It was her,” Clara breathed, looking to him nervously, “She did it...”

“What? What did she do?”

Clara glanced over at Go-Go, scowling darkly,

“She broke the mirrors. At your house. I saw the pictures...back in Battery City.”

Go-Go's eyes widened at that and she shook her head, stepping forward,

“How do you know about--?” she gasped, immediately stopping herself. But it was too late.

Party Poison looked at her, jaw set in anger,

“It was you...?”

Her face fell and she licked her lips, bringing her hand up,  
“I...I can explain.”

“You let the angels get near my family,” he hissed, snarling at her viciously, “You put them in danger! You're the reason I had to leave them in the first place!?”

“The angels are the reason you had to leave them, not me! That was not my fault!!”

“It was every bit your fault, don't give me that shit,” he shouted. He took a few steps forward, fists clenched at his sides as Clara quickly grabbed for his jacket, pulling him back.

“Why!?” he shouted, shaking his head furiously, “Why did you do it!? What the fuck did I ever do to you!?”

“I didn't mean to,” she said, voice beginning to trail off, “I just...I knew the Doctor was in there, and I thought if I could get his attention then I could go home! _We_ could go home, Poison!”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” he snarled, “How did you know he was even there, Go-Go? Were you stalking me!? Were you spying on my family!? What is it!?”

“I didn't have to spy on you, Poison,” she shook her head, “Not when Beverly called me to come check on you.”

He straightened at that, his eyes wide,

“What?”

“I was assigned to your case,” Go-Go repeated, wiping her eyes, “As your health care provider. As a condition of your release, a doctor in Los Angeles was required to make a house call at least once a week, or at Beverly's behest. Which she did. She called me at my home this afternoon, afraid that you were having another break--”

“You know damn well the first time was no _break_ \--”

“I have documents that state otherwise,” she said shortly, shaking her head, “And when she called I heard a voice on the other end. A voice that sounded very much like the man I met at the Diner the day the Angels sent me back. So, I got in my car and came as fast as I could. When I pulled up, I could see the Police Box in the window. The Angels swarming the yard. But you put up the mirrors. You didn't even see me. Party, Poison, you were going to leave without me! I had to do something!”

The red head closed his eyes, and stayed quiet. The woman straightened, strengthening in her resolve as she repeated herself,

“I only did what I did...so that you wouldn't leave me behind.”

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he looked to Go-Go and licked his lips,

“Well, that's too bad. 'Cause we _did_ leave you. Your little plan didn't work. In fact, I haven't seen _you_ in months, Go-Go. Well, not until you showed up as the Director and tried to kill me.”

Go-Go frowned, shaking her head with a snort,

“What?”

“You heard me, _Madam Director,_ ” Poison sneered, shaking his head, “You killed Gravel Gertie! Got her straight through the gut with an old school katana. Then, you waited. You knew the boys and me were taking water to the kiddies that day, so you waited for us to show up and find Gertie's body. And when I found you, you tried to talk me into joining your little crusade to wipe all us Zone Rats of our identities and when I gave you the old 'fuck no', you tried to fucking kill me! And you damn near killed Kobra Kid, while we're at it!”

“But I...I would never do those things. That's not me, Party Poison! You know that's not me!!”

“Oh, so I suppose you didn't drug Clara, here, either. Since that's _'not you'_

“What, no...! I-I was just--”

“Your dad started BLIndustries, he knew how to make the serum. You learned it from him. And you took that knowledge, and made some with the drugs you accessed here, and gave it to Clara. Promised you'd stop if she told you what you wanted to hear, isn't that right?”

Go-Go gaped at him, her eyes wide,

“I didn't....I didn't think...”

“That's the Director's M.O. The fear gas? The Drac masks,” Poison said, sighing heavily, “Make your victim submit by forcing them to relive their worst nightmares, promising that you're the only one that can make it stop, and you will, so long as they do what you want them to. Sound familiar?”

She lowered the gun, tears streaming down her cheeks,

“I'm not the Director,” she breathed, shaking her head, “Party Poison, please....”

He shook his head and swallowed hard,

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I can't risk it. I _won't_ risk it.”

He brought the gun up aiming directly at her head. His eyes remained focused on the ground as he cocked it, finger lightly squeezing on the trigger.

“Poison, you don't understand,” Go-Go pleaded, “It's horrible here. I have nothing! People look at me and they think _I'm_ the enemy--!”

“Well, maybe you _are_. Did you ever think of that?”

“ _ENOUGH_ ,” Clara shouted, stepping up beside him with angry eyes, “Stop it, right now! You are not doing this! Not in my name! That's not fair--!”

“I'm not fair,” Poison said, shaking his head as he glanced over at her, “ _I'm_ not fair!? She put you in here against your will! She _hurt_ you, Clara! She hurt you and you wanna tell me _I'm_ the one who's not being fair!?”

“Yes, she did. She did hurt me,” Clara said, grabbing the gun and pushing it down, “But she's been hurt, too. You remember how crazy things became after Pearl Harbour--”

“That's no excuse.”

“No, it isn't,” Clara smiled, shaking her head, “But tell me, if you were in her shoes, right now, having been through the same things she has...would you _not_ be doing the same thing? Acting out like this? Getting desperate? Doing anything you knew you could do to get back everything you lost? Tell me, right now.”

“I wouldn't--”

“Please,” Clara snorted, “You're a bloody liar, and you know it!”

He fell silent.

Turning to Go-Go, she swallowed hard and offered a warm smile,

“I forgive you. I know, now, why you did the things you did. I thought you wanted to hurt the Doctor, but you wouldn't hurt anyone, would you? Not if you thought you didn't have to. You just wanted to go home.”

Go-Go nodded, eyes swollen with tears,

“Yes...yes, I did. I just want to go home. And I'm sorry....but I'd do it, again. I would do it, again...!”

Turning to Poison, Clara put both hands around the gun,

“Put it away. Please. Don't hurt her. She's been hurt enough. When the Doctor comes, we'll take her back home where she belongs.”

The tension on the roof top was thick for a few moments as Party Poison deliberated over Clara's words. Finally, he lowered the gun and placed it back in it's holster. He looked to Go-Go with sad eyes,

“I'm sorry...I really am.”

Grabbing Clara by the arm, he dragged her back over to the edge, much to her alarm and confusion.

“What are you doing!?” Clara shouted, shaking her head, “Party Poison--!?”

“We can't take her with us.”

“What!? Why not!?”

“If you had the chance to stop the world from ending, you'd take it wouldn't you?” Poison hissed, “If we take her back, she becomes the Director. If I leave her here, there's a chance that doesn't happen--”

“You can't be seriously thinking of doing that to her!?”

“You're damn right I'm thinking about it! You said it yourself, _Girly!_ 'Acting out. Getting desperate. Doing anything you knew you could do to get back everything you lost?'”

He looked down at Clara, doing his best to ignore her heartbroken gaze,

“Well, I want my family back. I want my _life_ back.I want California, _p_ _re-BLInd_! If this is what it takes, then I'll gladly leave her in the fucking dust.”

A laser whizzed between their heads as he finished his sentence, and they turned back to Go-Go. She held a lavender gun in her hands.

Reaching over, she twisted the knob and steadied her aim,

“That first shot was on stun. This one's set to kill. Do you really want to play this little game with me?”

Clara shook her head, raising her hand up,

“Go-Go, don't. You don't have to do this--”

“Yes, I do,” she began, narrowing her eyes at them, “You will take me with you, or I will kill you _both_. I've already lost everything, what more could they possibly take from me?”

Poison reached for his gun, and she fired a second shot, burning the ground at his feet.

She took aim for Clara,

“Go for it, again, and the next one goes between her pretty little eyes.”

He pulled Clara behind him.

“Do you think I won't kill you?” Go-Go snorted, sneering coldly, “Why? Because you're good in the sack? I'll give it to you, Poison, we had some good times together, but not good enough for me to spare you on that alone--”

“I don't expect you to,” he grinned, hand hovering by the holster, “But thanks for the compliment. Oh, and if you're gonna shoot me, make it quick, okay? And for God's sake, don't aim at the breadwinner.”

He put a hand over his crotch. Go-Go rolled her eyes,

“Always joking around. You never change, do you?”

“Well, you know what they say,” he snickered, sighing deeply, “If it ain't broke, don't fix it.”

“I will kill you,” she repeated, a quiver to her voice.

“Then, do it,” Poison said, holding his arms out to either side, “Fire away.”

Clara tensed as he began taking steps backward, inching them both closer to the edge. She glanced over the side, staring at the cement that lay four stories below them, and swallowed hard,

“Party Poison....what are you doing?”

“Walking us to the edge. What's it look like?”

“And why are you walking us to the edge!?”

“Because,” he said, swallowing hard, “We're gonna jump.”

“We're gonna _what_!?”

“You're not going anywhere, Party Poison,” Go-Go shouted, shaking her head, “I will kill you!”

“Then, do it already, Jesus Christ! Quick yappin' about it and shoot me!”

Clara gasped as she spotted the crowd, tapping him on the shoulder,

“Party Poison, stop.”

“Why, what's wrong?”

Clara breathed,

“Look.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide as he spotted her in the crowd.

Bev.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head, “She was supposed to leave...she was supposed to go home...”

“You'll get back here now, Party Poison,” Go-Go repeated, her voice beginning to waiver, “And you'll wait with me until the Doctor comes to save you. You will take me back to 2019 or I swear to God, I will put a laser in both your brains. Don't think I won't!”

“Oh, I know you will,” he snorted, keeping his eyes on Bev, “I know...”

Clara shook her head, offering him a smile as she put a hand on his arm,

“Party Poison. Look at me.”

He did so reluctantly. Clara offered him a smile,

“You're angry, I know that. But we _can't_ do this. It isn't right. We cannot leave Go-Go here by herself!”

Poison was silent. He continued to gaze at Bev, tears in his eyes.

Clara shook her head, turning him to face her and grabbed his hands,

“Is this what you want? Honestly? To leave your friend behind, lost in time? All alone--!”

“Sometimes, we have to make a shitty call in order to survive,” he said, swallowing hard, “She knows how it goes. She'd do the same in my shoes.”

Clara bit her lip as she gazed up into his hazel eyes, heart pounding.

Averting his eyes from her judgmental stare, he turned to Go-Go hand hovering at his gun.

Go-Go steadied her aim and shook her head,

“I will kill you. I won't even think twice.”

There were tears in her eyes. He sighed, offering a smile as he touched his finger to the dial,

“I'm sorry.”

In a flash, he'd pulled the gun, before Go-Go could even react. He fired the shot, hitting her right in the chest. She fell back, collapsing in a shuddering heap.

Clara shook her head as he lowered the gun, voice soft,

“You...you shot her.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you kill her? Is she dead?”

Turning to her with a sigh, Poison brought up the hilt and showed it to her,

“It's on stun. She'll be fine in a minute.”

“No, I don't think she will,” Clara breathed, looking back at Go-Go as Poison took her hand and led her to the ledge. Stepping up onto it, he pulled her up beside him and they both glanced down. Four stories.

Clara bit her lip and shook her head, looking to him with terrified eyes,

“Can't we just use the front door?”

“The cops are waiting in the stair well,” Poison said, tensing up, “So, no. That's not really an option.”

He wobbled a little, nearly toppling them over the side. Clara yelped, closing her eyes as she pulled him back,

“Wait, wait, wait!! What if...what if the Doctor doesn't come for us? What then?”

“Then, we go all Humpty-Dumpty, I guess,” he said with a snicker.

“And you'd do that in front of her,” she whispered, motioning to the woman in the crowd, “It'll kill her.”

Poison looked to Bev and sighed,

“Yeah, me too.”

Clara pulled back a little as he inched closer to the edge, shaking her head,

“I don't think I can do this....”

“If you're really afraid he won't come, Clara, trust me. He will. The universe kinda depends on it at this point.”

She frowned up at him, her eyes wide,

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Poison hesitated. The door to the stairwell burst open then, and two armed police officers came barrelling through. They looked at each other, and Poison laughed nervously,

“Well, we'll find out, won't we?”

Pulling her close, he held her tight as he kicked away from the roof, sending them both sailing toward the ground.

Clara screamed.

 


	22. Fake Your Death

It was quick, quicker than she thought it would be. The wind rushed up around her as they dropped from that height, zipping past windows, plummeting toward the ground. Her mind was empty as they fell.

She couldn't even manage a thought for Danny Pink. There was no time.

Until, of course, there was.

A whole box full.

Clara gasped as she felt herself suddenly slipping along a winding, metal slide. It wound through the console room and down the many, ever changing corridors, until finally it dumped them both into the library pool.

 

~ø~

 

Bev fell to her knees as the blue, police box appeared, hanging horizontal in the middle of the air, doors opened wide. She let out a loud, gasping sigh of relief as Party Poison and Clara disappeared into it, and the crowd watched stunned as the box then vanished as quickly as it had come. For a moment, she gaped at the empty air where he'd been falling, as if still waiting for him to hit the ground. Then, finally, like a pressure cooker blowing out steam, she screamed and covered her mouth, bursting into sobs of joy as she crossed herself repeatedly,

“Oh, thank you...thank you, thank you...!”

 

~ø~

 

Swimming to the surface, Clara coughed and glanced around, eyes wide,  
“Party Poison?”

He hadn't come up, yet. Shaking her head, she spun in a circle, calling out frantically,

“Party Poison!?”

“Clara!?”

A splash from behind her, followed by a terrible fit of hacking and gasping drew her attention and she smiled, sighing in relief as she spotted him. He looked like a drowned rat, and if he looked like a drowned rat then she was sure she had to have looked equally as bad or perhaps worse. The pair paused as they looked at each other, soon cracking smiles and collapsing into a fit of giggles as the seconds passed.

Wading through the pool, she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight,

“We did it! Oh my God, we actually did!!”

“Yeah,” he said softly, squeezing her back, “Yeah, I guess we did.”

She pulled back from him and shook her head, continuing to giggle madly,

“Wow. I mean wow....we just jumped off a roof. And landed in the TARDIS! Didn't even know it would be there. We could have died!”

“But we didn't,” Poison smiled. Clara nodded,

“I know! I've never felt so alive! And that slide...? When did he get that slide? Is that new?”

“Kinda reminded me of _Raging Waters_ in San Dimas. Went one summer with my parents. You ever been?”

Clara stared at him blankly.

“'Course, you haven't,” he smiled, nodding awkwardly, “Not surprising.”

“ _Clara!!”_

She glanced up at the shout, a wide grin on her face as the Doctor appeared in the doorway.

He came rushing over, jumping in the pool as he bounded over to them,

“Clara! My Clara!!”

Upon reaching Clara, he shoved Party Poison out of the way, causing him to fall back down into the water, and pulled her into his arms, squeezing tight,

“Oh, Clara! Clara, Clara, Clara! My beautiful Clara! You're all right! I mean, you are, aren't you?”

She laughed and smiled, albeit slightly confused by his sudden affinity for hugs,

“I'm fantastic,” she said, glancing over at Poison, “Absolutely fantastic.”

With a cough, he pulled away and nodded, straightening his back as he tried to smooth out the floating tails of his coat,

“Good. That's good. That's wonderful.”

He then turned to Poison, pointing a finger at him sternly,

“As for you,” he began, taking a few steps toward him, “What the hell were you even thinking!? Jumping off the roof like that!? You could have died! Or worse, created a paradox! You could have ripped all of _New York_ apart!”

Poison raised an eyebrow at that, and shook his head,

“You mean _California_?”

After a short pause, the Doctor nodded, silvery brows furrowing together,

“Well, of course, I did. _California_. That's absolutely what I meant.”

Jack came running as the three of them climbed out of the pool, out of breath and excitedly shouting as he approached,

“You made it! Hole-in-one, huh?”

“Yeah,” Poison said, voice growing soft, “Hole-in-one.”

He pushed passed him and headed on down the hall back toward the console room in a quickened pace. Clara straightened and hurried after him, the Doctor in tow. Jack slowly followed behind.

 

~ø~

 

Clara rounded the corner to find Poison standing at the console, tapping away at the keypad and looking at the monitor. She shook her head,

“What are you doing?”

He said nothing. The Doctor stepped around her, frowning as he watched the young man slap the monitor a few times,

“Careful with that! You're likely to break something!”

He jogged around and pulled the monitor out of Poison's reach. Waving him back from the console, he scowled darkly at him,

“Just what are you trying to do, anyway? Make her have a meltdown?”

“There's something,” Poison said, shifting uncomfortably under the Doctor's gaze, “I wanted to check on...before we left.”

“Well, that's too bad,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head as checked the monitor for damage, “We're already half way home, Michael. If there were any pit stops you wanted to make you should have told me sooner.”

“No, not a pit stop, Doc,” Poison growled, scratching his neck uncomfortably, “I...I did something.”

Immediately, the Doctor paused and turned to look at him, eyebrow raised in concern,

“You...did something?”

Poison nodded shortly. Turning his gaze to Clara, the Doctor scowled,

“Clara....?”

Clara took a deep breath and exchanged glances with the red head. Sliding her hands together, she cleared her throat and nodded,

“I--”

“You didn't do anything, I did it,” Poison immediately interjected, “Whatever happens now, is 100% my fault, you got it?”

The Doctor took a step forward, staring Poison straight in the eye as he raised his voice,  
“Enough with the silent exchanges, you two! Words! Now! You know what those are, correct?”

Party Poison feel silent for a moment. Finally, shaking his head, he looked to the floor grates and coughed,

“Go-Go was there, Doc. In the 40's. She had Clara drugged up and locked away, trying to milk her for answers about you.”

“Go-Go? Who's Go-Go?”

Clara stepped up beside the Doctor and smiled, placing a hand on his arm,

“Doctor, he means the Director.”

The Doctor's eyes widened at that and he looked to Poison, a look of betrayal on his face,

“Eri?”

Poison nodded slowly. Without a word, the Doctor turned and walked away from them, shaking his head furiously as he covered his eyes with a hand. Clara licked her lips, and inched forward, offering a smile,

“Look, Doctor! We can just go back and pick her up! It's not like it's the end of the world--”

“How would you know!?” the Doctor shouted suddenly and they all jumped. His booming voice echoed loudly throughout the chamber, “Have you dealt in world ending paradoxes before!? Do you think you're an expert now that you've been travelling with me for a while!? You think you've got all of time and space figured out, do you? Well, newsflash, Clara Oswald! You don't.”

Clara's eyes widened at his words and she shook her head,

“I know enough to know you are overreacting about this--”

“ _I'm_ overreacting,” the Doctor snorted, waving his hands in the air, “Oh, yes, call _me_ the drama queen! Meanwhile, you two have been off gallivanting in the past, changing history in ways that you cannot even fully comprehend! There will be consequences, Clara. Of all people, I thought you knew better--!!”

“She did,” Poison shouted back, storming up between them, “I'm the one who did this, _Doctor._ I'm the one who fucked up here. She tried to talk me out of it!!”

The Doctor straightened, half smiling as he eyed Party Poison up and down,

“Tried. Doesn't mean she _did_.”

Turning sharply away from them, he stepped back over to the monitor. Tapping at the keypad for a moment, he swirled back around and jabbed his finger toward Party Poison,

“And as for you, _Michael Milligram_!”

Poison visibly tensed.

“I see now that this arrangement is a mistake,” the Doctor continued, shaking his head, “You and I should never have crossed paths a second time, let alone a _third_. We both would have been better off.”

“Yeah,” Poison nodded, wiping his nose, “We would have.”

The room fell silent, save for the steady clacking of the keyboard beneath the Doctor's fingertips.

“Now, then,” he began softly, a hint of venom in his snarl, “Let's see what you've done.”

As he brought the screen around to look at, the Doctor straightened. His face went soft, and his voice, grave.

“Oh,” he said, “Oh my...”

Poison swallowed hard as he charged over, grabbing the screen,

“What...what is it? What did I do?”

His heart stopped as he looked at the picture flickering on the display.

It was Battery City.

 

~ø~

 

Go-Go opened her eyes slowly, finding herself gazing up at the sky. Sitting up, she quickly crawled to the edge as the sounds of a loud, familiar whooshing filled her ears. Peeking over the side, she caught the last glimpses of the blue police box as it faded out of sight, her eyes wide. Shaking her head, she sat back and gazed down at the ground.

The pain that filled her heart was intense. Eyes spilling over with tears, she let out a scream of agony and slammed her palms down against the shingles. She had been so close.

 

~ø~

 

“It's the same,” Poison breathed, eyes wide, “It's exactly the same. Nothing changed.”

“So, it is,” the Doctor said, his voice quieter, now. The rage in it was gone, replaced with sympathy and sadness.

“How can it be the same?” Clara shook her head, stepping up beside them, “Go-Go was there, I saw her, Doctor. Something should have changed! There's no way anybody could survive that long--”

Hearing a cough, they all turned to look at Jack, who was standing against the rail, arms folded,

“Maybe she was immortal,” he suggested, “That ever cross your mind?”

“No,” the Doctor sighed, exploring the sub menu of the BLI website, “I suspect something much simpler than that...”

Finding the Director's profile, he highlighted her name and searched it through the TARDIS database. An article appeared soon enough, dated for November 23rd, 1963.

“Dr. Eri Takahashi, aged 57, makes break through in robotic engineering. Perfects 'human replica' to be showcased in April, at the 1964 World's Fair in Queens, NY.”

“A human replica?” Clara said, shaking her head, “What? You mean like--”

“A bot,” Poison said, voice void of emotion, “She made a bot.”

“Several, actually,” the Doctor corrected, bringing up an old photograph of a small, old woman standing in the middle of a lab. Tables lined each side of the room, twenty in all, and on each one sat what appeared to be twenty, sleeping women. They all looked like Eri, resembled how she looked when they'd left her in the 40s.

“Dear God,” Jack said, looking at the clones as he stepped up behind Poison, “Look at all of them.”

“And it's safe to assume she continued making them,” the Doctor said as he scanned through the articles, “Kept perfecting them over the years. Made them bleed...made them cry. By the 1980s, they'd learned emotions, happiness, sadness....anger. Around this time, Eri went back to the pharmaceutical trade and began a booming business in creating pain relievers. She built herself an empire.”

“What else does it say?” Poison breathed. Clara looked to him, swallowing hard. His face was stricken, pale. He looked faint. And his eyes were filled with tears.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor cautiously continued,

“In the early 90s, her company, Takahashi Pharm, had culminated a type of pill that allowed the user to experience the purist sensation of bliss. Unlike an antidepressant, which works to balance the chemicals of the brain, this pill unbalanced it, making the user unable to feel any unpleasant or unsavoury emotions, like anger or sadness, and implanted an artificial feeling of joy. Unfortunately, the side effects left the user devoid of _any_ emotion after about a month's use, and the FDA decided against approval after the clinical trials. Ultimately, the pill was abandoned until the economic crash of 2008, when Takahashi Pharm merged with Better Living Industries. With the merger a new CEO was announced in the form of--”

“Daniel Takahashi. Eri's father,” Poison finished, shaking his head, “She used to joke about it. 'Takahashi and Takahashi. No relation.' Joke's on her, huh?”

“How old would she even have been by then?” Clara asked, eyes wide as she looked at the picture of a now, very aged and withered Eri in her wheelchair.

“102,” the Doctor answered, exiting the biography, “And seeing as there's no reports indicating a time of death, it may be safe to assume...that she hasn't, yet.”

Staggering away from them, Poison grabbed the rail and held it tight in both hands. He gazed at the round lights lining the walls, watched them pulse as the TARDIS sailed through space and time, away from the past, back toward the future. The unchanged future.

“I did this,” he whispered, barely aware that words were even leaving his mouth, “I made her what she is. BLI...Battery City...? The Dracs, S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W, the Exterminators, _all_ of it. It's all my fault.”

“Mikey-boy,” Jack began, but Poison cut him off with a laugh.

“No, it's true,” Poison insisted, shaking his head, “I was selfish and California suffered for it. My _family_ suffered for it! I made the wrong choice--”

“No, Michael,” the Doctor said firmly, “You didn't make the _wrong_ choice. You made _a_ choice. The _exact_ choice that history needed you to make at the _exact_ time you needed to make it!”

Party Poison winced at that, and shook his head, tapping the rail with his knuckles. Clara took a few steps forward. She had no idea what to say to him, now. And she was even more lost as he turned to face her, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

“I should have listened to you,” he said quietly, struggling to get the words out, “You were right...telling me not to leave her. And I didn't listen. I should have listened.”

Walking right up to him, she took his hand and smiled,

“There was no way you could have known what would happen, Party Poison. It was a solid plan--”

“But it was selfish,” he said, pulling his hand away from her, “It wasn't good.”

She bowed her head as he laughed again. He sounded so broken.

“But then, who ever said I was a good guy....?” he said with a snort.

 

~ø~

 

Dr. Death Defying smiled as the TARDIS arrived in a flurry of dust and wind, the golden light of sunset casting a halo around it's rectangular frame. He watched as the door opened, and out stepped Party Poison, followed closely by Jack, the Doctor, and Clara. His eyes fixed on her and he felt his heart leap up into his throat.

She looked sad.

 

~ø~

 

“Well,” Jack began, turning to the three of them with a sigh, “Australia's been found. Mikey-boy is back where he belongs. Miss Oswald is safe. And the Daleks are God-knows where by now, so I think, with that being said, I'll be on my way.”

“Where are you headed, now?” the Doctor said, “If you don't mind me asking, that is.”

“I've been thinking about it,” he said, looking over at Party Poison with a smile, “And a certain someone made me realise just how important it is to be with the people you love. For as long as you can.”

Pulling the Doctor into a hug, Jack kissed him on the cheek and smiled,

“See you around, Doctor.”

“Not if I can help it,” the Doctor smirked, patting the soldier on the shoulder .

“It was nice meeting you, Jack,” Clara said, embracing him warmly. He grinned as she pulled away, kissing her hand with a wink,

“Call me sometime.”

“Stop it,” the Doctor threatened, and Jack just laughed.

Turning to Poison, he held out a hand, saying nothing. Poison looked at it, eyeing it suspiciously as he took it. Jack shook it vigorously, grinning from ear to ear,

“Good luck, Mike.”

“You, too, Harkness,” Party Poison replied, hand lingering for a moment. Jack frowned as the red head's grip suddenly tightened. His eyes widened as Poison yanked him in, not for a hug, but for a firm kiss on the lips.

After a few moments, he pulled back, beginning to smile,

“Pancakes.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. Poison laughed, looking to Jack in amusement,

“You used to make me pancakes. Every Sunday morning. You'd cut 'em into hearts and smother them in maple syrup.”

Biting his lip, Jack nodded and laughed, swallowing hard,

“Yeah. Yeah, I did, didn't I?”

“You know, I remember when you left, we'd had a fight,” Poison continued, “I can't remember what about...but I told you something. I said, you'd better hope they shoot you out of the sky, cause I'll kill you if you come back here. And then...they did. They did, they shot you out of the sky...”

He thought for a moment, neither of them speaking. Finally, he licked his lips and nodded,

“I'm glad you're alive, Jack.”

“Me, too,” Jack said, pulling Poison into a hug.

As he pulled away, he offered the trio a salute, and again, shot Clara a wink,

“Don't be a stranger, now.”

She blushed, bashfully shooting him a thumbs up. He then turned to Poison, gazing at him silently as he pressed the button on the fully recharged Vortex Manipulator on his wrist and disappeared in a warp of light.

Party Poison exhaled at that and after a moment of staring at the footprints Jack left behind in the sand, turned to the Doctor and nodded,

“Guess this is it, then, huh?”

The Doctor nodded,

“I suppose it is, yeah.”

“We had a good run, didn't we, _Doc_?”

“Oh, I think so, _Marty_. I think so.”

They laughed at one another, and the Doctor sighed, pulling him into a hug,

“Oh, what the hell. Come here, you scamp.”

They squeezed each other tight for a moment or two, until finally, Poison wiped his nose and pulled away with a snort,

“I won't miss you, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” the Doctor grinned, shaking his head, “What, do you think _I'd_ miss _you_?”

“Not snowflake's chance in hell,” he smiled back.

Turning to Clara, Party Poison swallowed hard and bit his lip. He found himself speechless.

She looked as if she'd cry at any moment. Stepping over to her, he shrugged and smiled,

“Clara--”

Quickly, she threw her arms around his neck, holding on tight.

“Don't,” she breathed into his ear, her voice beginning to waiver, “Just don't say anything. Not a word.”

“But I--”

“If you say it...I won't be able to let you go. So, I don't wanna hear it, not now,” she wiped her eyes as she pulled away, shaking her head, “Not when it's already over...”

She avoided his eyes as they bored into her, the lump in her throat growing bigger and bigger. After a few moments passed between them, Poison finally sighed and nodded,

“Okay. I won't.”

A split second later, the sound of tires on gravel drew his attention away from her, and he turned around. Screeching to a halt behind him was D's van, and out hopped Fun Ghoul. His face was pale and his eyes were wide, and a wound on his head leaked blood down his face,

“Poison, thank God. Did you see her? Is she with you?”

“Who?” he breathed, meeting Ghoul halfway, “What are you talking about? What happened!?”

“S.C.A.R.E.C.R.O.W. They found us. Hiding out in D's Station. Kid and Jet stayed back, tried to hold 'em off, while I took Girl to higher ground. But...”

Poison shook his head, eyes wide,

“But what? Ghoul?”

“We got separated,” Ghoul breathed, swallowing hard, “She got away from me. She's all alone out there, Poison. And those bastards are right on her tail--!”

“Why would you come back here, then!?” the red head shrieked, “Why didn't you go after her!!?”

“She was headed this way! I was hoping you'd seen her and tell me she was okay!!”

“Goddammit, Ghoul!”

He ran his hands up through his hair and paced back and forth. Ghoul shook his head,

“Look, I'm sorry, okay!? They got the best of me! Snuck up from behind and pounded me into the dirt, there was nothing I could do!”

“And you were sure she was headed this way? Toward the Diner?”

“Yeah, dead sure.”

Licking his lips, Poison nodded,

“Then, go get in the van, I'll be there in a sec.”

Ghoul nodded and ran back, climbing into the passenger's seat.

Spinning on his heel, he walked back over to Clara, gazing down at her with a sigh. She refused to look up.

Silently, he leaned down and grabbing her shoulders, softly pecked her on the cheek. Her eyes met his as he pulled away and he offered a sad smile,

“Goodbye, Clara.”

She opened her mouth to speak as he pulled away from her, but no words came, and she watched, mouth agape as he ran back for the van.

He glanced back upon reaching the driver's side door, and they locked eyes briefly. His face turned to stone as he broke his gaze from hers and climbed in. Within seconds, he'd started the car and made a squealing U-Turn, dust flying everywhere as he went. She watched as the van sped off down the road and disappeared, the words never leaving her lips. Bowing her head, she pushed passed the Doctor and marched back into the TARDIS.

The Doctor stood there a moment, gazing at the dust cloud that Party Poison had left in his wake. Hearing a whistle, he looked to the Diner and spotted Dr. Death Defying sitting in the doorway. The man smiled,

“12 is a pretty magic number...wouldn't you agree?”

Then, pressing a button on his chair, he backed out of sight and disappeared.

 

~ø~

 

The Doctor entered the TARDIS, snapping the door shut behind him as he cautiously walked over to Clara. She stood by the console monitor, gazing at the screen intently as the security footage from BLI's headquarters played out again and again, a constant loop of sacrifice and death. Clearing his throat, the Doctor stepped up behind her and sighed,

“Clara.”

“So, that's it, then, isn't it?” she said, sounding drained, “That's all she wrote.”

Wiping her eyes, she cut off the monitor and tossed it away,

“Well, let's get on with it, then.”

Wiping her eyes, she spun around and forced a smile,

“Let's blow this popsicle stand. I wanna see something awesome.”

“Awesome?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah,” Clara nodded, folding her arms as she paced the floor, “Awesome. Like, maybe we could go....solar wind surfing in the Crab Nebula? That's a thing, right? Or skiing on Kastria? We've got extra coats in the cupboard, don't we? We'll be fine. Come to think of it, though, do we even have skis? Oh, we can pick them up on the way out. Maybe stop off in Hyspero. They've got an amazing market square, remember? And this time of year, skis'll be a _steal_...”

The Doctor gazed at her silently and she shifted, averting her gaze,

“Doctor, please. Let's just go, all right?” she began, voice growing weak, “Some place where I won't have to think for a bit....okay?”

With a short nod, the Doctor waltzed to the controls, and flipped a few switches,

“Something awesome, you said?”  
Pulling the lever, they both looked up as the lights began to flash, the gears overhead turning as time sped passed outside their door. Clara smiled as she gazed at the pillar, eyes sparkling in the amber glow. After a few seconds, the Doctor pulled the lever again and the TARDIS came to a complete stop. He glanced down at Clara and grinned, and she smile back,

“So, where are we?”

“Go take a look outside,” he replied, beaming ear to ear.

With a giggle, she dashed to the doors, pausing only a brief time before throwing open the doors.

Her heart fell. Just a few feet away, in a dusty, abandoned lot, stood a diner betrayed by time. Her paint had faded, had begun falling off her walls, and there were more cracks in the window then she remembered. The vending machine had been tipped at some point, the happy, smiling face of BLIndustries having been graffitied over by some wandering soul, she imagined.

Turning back to the Doctor, she shook her head and scowled,

“This is not funny.”

“Who's laughing?” the Doctor said, shrugging as he walked passed her. She followed after him slowly, shaking her head with a sigh,

“Doctor, seriously. I can't...”

Reaching for the knob, he opened the door and turned to Clara,

“Trust me,” he said, nodding her inside, “There's someone here you're gonna want to see.”

Glaring at him, she rolled her eyes and marched inside. The sun came through the windows, glinted of the specks of dust like glittering gold. Her eyes immediately fell upon the man seated in the wheelchair at the centre of the room. He was humming a tune, one all too familiar to her as of late. The words left his lips as he swivelled to meet them,

“ _I'll be seeing you...in all the old, familiar places...”_

He smiled at seeing her, nodding shortly,

“Ah, Miss Oswald! You're back.”

“Dr. Death Defying,” she nodded, mocking a salute, “How are you?”

“Oh, I'm doin' mighty well, thank you,” he said, wheeling over to her. Taking her hand, he kissed it softly and she laughed, sighing deeply as she shot the Doctor a glare.

“You brought the Doctor with you this time, I see,” he said, waving to the silvery-haired man at the door.

The Doctor waltzed in, closing the door behind him as he approached them,

“Well, how else would she get here?”

D shrugged,

“Dunno. Magic.”

Clara smiled at that, frowning as his hand lingered on hers. Shaking his head, he pulled away and wheeled over to the table across the room, clearing his throat,

“Poison had something he wanted me to give you next time I saw you. Suppose he knew he wouldn't be seeing you himself.”

She bit her lip, feeling tears hit her eyes as he wheeled back over,

“Yeah. Suppose he did.”

Handing her a small envelope, he sighed deeply as she opened it,

“He was a character, wasn't he?”

“Yes, yes, he was,” the Doctor said, watching Clara's posture closely as she unfolded the letter inside, “How long has it been? Since he passed away, I mean?”

“12 years,” D said, gazing intently at Clara, “Give or take.”

Clara snorted as she read it and shook her head, her hands beginning to tremble,

“Okay, is this some kind of joke?”

She looked at him and shook her head,

“Because it is really not funny, and I am certainly not in the mood for it.”

The Doctor frowned as he stepped over to her, motioning for her to show it to him,

“Well, what is it? What does it say?”

She turned to him and held it out for him to read. It bore the words, ' **Very Much Alive.** '

The Doctor looked to her. She looked cross and ready to cry at any minute,

“This is not awesome, Doctor. I want to leave,” she said, shaking her head, “Right now.”

The Doctor took the letter in hand and peered over her shoulder at Dr. Death Defying, he was humming again.

“Well, suppose it's not a joke.”

“Not a joke?” she bit her lip and winced, “ _Not_ a joke? Party Poison is dead. We saw it happen. Tell me, Doctor, how does this in any way seem _funny_ to you?”

“It's not funny--!”

“Then, why are you laughing!?”

“I am _not_ laughing--!!”

“Yes, you are,” she shouted, her voice beginning to break, “I see it in your eyes, you are laughing it up! Everything's _always_ funny to you, isn't it!? Even death? The death of all the puny little people around you that you couldn't give a damn about!? Like Danny!? Was that funny, too!?”

“ _Clara_ \--!”

“No,” she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks, “No, I am done! I can't do this, Doctor. Not anymore!”

Whirling around, she offered Dr. Death Defying a smile before baring her teeth,

“Joke's over, mate. My pain will not be made a mockery, not by you, and certainly not by _'Party Poison'_.”

Turning on her heel, she made to leave, stopping only as he began to sing,

“' _I'll be seeing you, in every lovely summer's day....'_ ”

Slowly, she turned back, frowning deeply as he continued,

“' _....In everything that's light and gay, I'll...always think of you that way...'_ ”

His voice had changed. It was higher pitched, now, higher pitched and tired, and very, very familiar.

“' _I'll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new...I'll be looking at the moon...'”_

Inching back over to him, she swallowed hard, saying nothing. Her eyes focused on his face. It was hidden from her, predominately by the golden aviators he wore, but also by the long, scraggly strands of greying hair that spilled down from the bandanna around his head. Bushy facial hair also obscured the view, as did the skin worn and wrinkled by time. But his eyes.

His eyes would not be able to lie.

Reaching down, she carefully grabbed the arms of the sunglasses and pulled them away from his face. He raised his gaze to meet her, warm smile on his face despite the sad song in his faded hazel eyes,

“' _And I'll be seeing you.'”_

The sunglasses fell to the dusty floor, one of the lenses popping out of it's frame. With a gasp, she dropped to her knees and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight as she looked into those eyes. Swallowing hard, she shook her head, glancing back and forth between him and the Doctor,

“I-I don't...I don't understand...”

Turning her full attention back to Dr. Death Defying, she hiccuped softly, tears hitting her cheeks,

“How? How can you be here?” she breathed, straining for words, “You died. I watched you _die_...! The security footage!! They shot you...in the _head_!”

“Well,” he grinned, laughing softly as he wiped away her tears, “They don't call me _Dr. Death Defying_ for nothing.”

Breaking into a smile, Clara threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, burying her face in the dusty leather of his faded black vest. He glanced over her shoulder at the Doctor, continuing to grin,

“Told you 12 was a magic number.”

“Oh, ho, ho,” the Doctor laughed, nodding vigorously as he gazed down at the man, “You did! You certainly did.”

Clara pulled back then and shook her head furiously, wiping her eyes as she began to babble,

“But I still don't understand! Where are the boys? And Girl? Anyone? Why are you here all by yourself?”

D swallowed hard and sighed deeply, offering a sad smile,

“It's a long story.”

Smiling, she laughed and squeezed his hands, her doe brown eyes sparkling with tears,

“Well, we've got time.”

The Doctor nodded toward the exit,

“All the time in the world, actually. A whole box full. Right outside your front door.”

D smiled and nodded with a shrug,

“Okay.”

 

~ø~

 

_**I died.** _

 

_He could hear them screaming for him, could see Kobra Kid just a few feet away. The gun under his chin began whirring and tensed, swallowing hard. The nozzle grew hot as Korse grinned at him, adjusting the placement likely to ensure the kill. And then, in a burst of light and white hot fire, it went off and he slid to the ground._

 

_**My whole head was fuzzy. Everything turned red, like when you shine a flashlight through your hand. That red just took over everything. Sound faded. Screams got distant. And then....** _

 

~ø~

 

He smiled wistfully,

“I was gone.”

Clara tensed, swallowing hard as she shook her head,

“Gone? Gone where?”

She looked thoroughly distraught. Noting this, D squeezed her hand and shrugged,

“Oh, I dunno. I don't really remember it all too well. But I do know, that wherever it was...the sun was out.”

“Were you happy there?” she asked. He nodded,

“Yeah. It was nice. And peaceful.”

A smile crept onto her lips and she wiped her eyes, clearing her throat,

“So, then...what happened? Why did you come back?”

“I didn't really have a say in the matter,” he said, face falling sadly.

 

~ø~

 

_**I woke up in a white room, surrounded by machines pumping me full of God-knows-what.** _

 

_He opened his eyes and looked around. The machines buzzing and beeping around him were giving him a headache. Or perhaps, he'd just woken up with it. The vaguest memory of a laser flashed before his eyes and he winced, remembering the pain in his chin. He tried to get up, but found himself in restraints._

“ _Are we comfortable in here?”_

_Said a voice and he looked to the door. There in the doorway, an old woman sat in a wheelchair, being pushed by a young woman in a grey, business suit. There were all sorts of wires connected to the old woman, as though the chair served as a life support device._

_“Do you remember me?” she said, her voice while feeble, still sounded threatening, “Do you know who I am?”_

_He gazed at her silently for a minute, then looked to the young woman. Her hair was cut into a short bob that framed her angular face._

 

_**For the life of me, I couldn't figure out who they were, even though somewhere deep down, I knew I was supposed to know.** _

 

_The old woman smiled a gummy smile and nodded,_

“ _What is your name?”_

_He stared at her blankly, again, unable to answer._

 

_**I had no idea who I was. Or what I was. Or why I was there on that table.** _

_**Everything I had been, the person I was before, all of it had been wiped clean. I was a blank canvas, on which they could paint anything they wanted.** _

 

_**And they did.** _

 

~ø~

 

“She turned me into the thing I hated most,” D sighed, avoiding Clara's concerned gaze as he turned to look outside.

“A Draculoid,” the Doctor said coldly, and D nodded.

“I did everything they told me to,” he sighed, pulling away from Clara. He swivelled around, turning away from her, and guided his wheelchair over to the window, “I'd go out with the others into the Zones...do patrols. I killed the very people I once called friends. Hot Chimp...Show Pony. I had no idea who they were anymore. All I knew were my orders. And I followed them without question.”

“What made you stop?” Clara breathed, rising back to her feet.

“The last order they gave me,” he said softly.

 

~ø~

 

_**They wanted me to kill Girl.** _

 

_He stood behind the brambles, rifle raised and aimed at the young girl's head. She looked about 12 or so, with long, brown curls matted with dirt and sweat. Her clothes looked worn, and too tight in some places, which was likely the reason she was scavenging the dump he'd found her in. She pulled up a pair of pants and held them to her waist, completely unaware of his presence. He squeezed at the trigger, firing a shot past her head._

_As she whirled around, he could see that she was otherwise unarmed. Unarmed and afraid. It was written all over her face. He straightened as he saw her eyes, soft and blue and full of fear, and quickly, he ducked down before she could spot him. Not that she would have been able to see his face, of course, it was concealed by the mask on his face._

 

_**The mask knows when you decide not to follow orders. It flashes your worst nightmares in front of your eyes. But, having no memory of anyone or anything that had come before, I didn't really have any nightmares to speak of.** _

 

_He grabbed his head as the voices came, followed by silhouettes in fog. They were shouting at him, but he could not hear what they said. He couldn't decipher anything. It got so loud that he could barely think. Dropping the rifle, he buried his head in his hands and curled up into a ball, softly sobbing,_

“ _Stop....stop!”_

 

_**That was, of course, until I heard a voice.** _

 

_'Party Poison...!'_

_He sat up bolt straight and looked around. There was no one there._

 

~ø~

 

“I was punished for it, of course,” he shook his head, smiling sadly, “The Director doesn't take kindly to insubordination.”

“What did she do to you?” Clara asked, voice trembling with each syllable. She wasn't sure if she actually wanted the answer.

“I'd rather not say,” he said, “But after that, I was confined to a desk. They took my gun and all my so-called 'privileges' away. Left me to rot in a cubicle for the next 6 years.”

 

~ø~

 

_**But I couldn't put it out of my mind. The Girl in the desert. The fact I couldn't kill her.** _

_**'Party Poison'.** _

 

_He scrawled a small pill on the corner of his spreadsheet, drawing an X beneath it. Tapping his pencil against the desk, he leaned back in his chair and gazed at it in confusion._

 

_**I knew it meant something. I felt it, deep inside somewhere. But I couldn't figure out for the life of me what it could be. Until...** _

 

_He peered around the corner, watched the Director leave her office. She had a clipboard in hand. Time for inspections. He'd have a window of about 3 minutes before she reached his desk. Once she'd disappeared around the corner, he hurried over to the door and jimmied it open, heading inside. Her office was white, as pristine as the halls, but somewhere there had to be something. He checked the drawers, rummaged through all of her papers, until finally, he came across a bag in her bottom drawer. It was just a small, plastic bag, and opening it, he retrieved from inside, a small, cardboard box. Tossing the bag aside, he opened the lid and swallowed hard. Laying loose inside the box, was a tarnished, turquoise rosary._

 

_**The moment I saw it, I knew. I knew something had been taken away from me, something very important. The name 'Party Poison' belonged to me. And so did that rosary.** _

 

~ø~

 

“Bev,” Clara sighed, and D nodded.

“For the life of me...I can't remember her face,” he said, swallowing hard, “Or her smile. Or the way she talked. Or the way she laughed. It's all gone, now. I only know the way she made me feel. I felt it when I looked at that rosary.”

 

~ø~

 

_**And I found something else, too.**_

 

_Tears in his eyes, he reached back into the drawer and pulled out an aged letter. Opening it up, he read the words carefully._

“ _'Hello, Doctor. It's me, Clara...'”_

 

_**I had absolutely no clue what I'd stumbled upon...not then, anyway.** _

 

_Quickly pocketing the letter and the rosary, he rearranged the Director's things and put everything back in order. He hurried out, and rushed back to his desk just as she was coming up on it. The Director scowled at him, raising an eyebrow,_

“ _Where were you just now, M-323?”_

_He looked to her, smiling behind his mask,_

“ _The John, ma'am.”_

_He remained silent as she made her inspection, assuring that everything was as bland and pure as when he'd been assigned to the desk, then checked off her clipboard and left._

_Making sure she was gone, he pulled the rosary from his pocket, rubbing his thumb along the cross._

 

_**I had to get out there, but I knew it would be difficult.** _

_**So, when night fell, I hot-wired a company car, drove it to the Tunnel, and used my BLI badge for the last time.** _

_**To leave.** _

 

_Driving up to the dusty lot, he stepped out of the car and gazed at the debilitated diner through the gaping eyeholes of his mask. It looked so familiar to him, but he couldn't place why. Walking up to it, he pushed open the door, and stepped inside, seeing the faded mannequins by the bar first off. He smiled. Running his hand along the bar, the voices came, faint by present. He couldn't make them out._

 

_**The memories were there. Everything was still there inside my head. But I couldn't reach them. The mask was keeping them locked away. So, of course, I did the dumbest thing I could possibly think of.** _

 

_Reaching back, he pulled up at the mask, feeling a stabbing pain in the back of his neck. It shot through his brain, knocking him out cold._

 

_**I honestly have no idea how long I was laying there, slobbering all over myself. But when I woke up, I was back to square one.** _

 

_“Hey! Are you all right?”_

_Opening his eyes, he saw a young woman sitting over him, gaping at him with wide, brown eyes. She was dressed in a blue, waitress outfit. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail behind her head. Helping him sit up, she smiled and shook her head,_

“ _What are you doing all the way out here, mate? This place has been closed for awhile.”_

“ _It has...?” he asked weakly looking around again._

_“Yeah,” said the waitress, giving him a hand as he climbed to his feet, “About 12 years, now. Give or take. Come on, come with me.”_

_She led him out of the Diner and to a gas station across the street. He frowned. He hadn't much of a memory left, but it was enough of one to know that this place was new. Inside there was a bar and some stools, as well as booths across the way. It looked similar to the Diner they'd just left, just a bit rearranged. The floor was black and white tile, and the bathroom door had a picture of Elvis painted on it. Helping him to sit, she rounded the bar and grabbed him a glass,_

“ _Here, let's get you some water.”_

_She poured some from the tap and handed it to him, smiling warmly. He took it graciously, practically chugging it down as he barely managed a thank you. She watched him intently as he finished it off, and laughed,_

“ _Thirsty?”_

_He nodded. Pressing a hand to his head, he handed the glass back to her and shook his head,_

“ _How long was I out?”_

“ _Dunno. Found you when I came on my shift. The door was open, that was bit weird. Saw you passed out inside. Thought you were dead at first, but then I saw you breathin'. You're lucky, Mr....?”_

_“No idea,” he breathed, tapping his fingers at the table._

“ _Well, that's a name I've never heard before,” she joked. He cracked a smile at that and she cheered,_

“ _Ah, yeah. There he is! There's a smile, Mr. No Idea.”_

_Leaning forward on the bar, she propped her head on her hand and smiled, narrowing her eyes,_

“ _You know...come to think of it. You remind me of somebody.”_

_“I do?”_

“ _Yeah,” she said, tapping at her lip, “There was a bloke I used to know...good friend of mine. He had the most wild red hair I've ever seen in my life, redder than a fire engine. Matched his personality. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were him.”_

“ _What was his name?” he asked, looking at the waitress curiously. She looked about to cry._

_She licked her lips and smiled,_

“ _Michael,” she said, “Michael Milligram.”_

_Staring at her a moment, he shook his head and frowned,_

“ _It doesn't ring a bell. Sorry.”_

 

_**Any little bit of memory that had started to resurface was gone when I pulled the mask off. There was absolutely nothing left this time. Not even a feeling.** _

 

~ø~

 

“Then, how do you remember, now?” Clara asked, shaking her head, “How did you get your memory back?”

D smiled as he swivelled around to face her, the sunlight glittering in his hazel eyes,

“The Phoenix Witch guided me home.”

 

~ø~

 

_“You're gonna wanna take a left down that road,” the waitress said, “You'll see a mailbox covered in graffiti a little ways down from the old post office. There should be someone there who can help you find what you're looking for.”_

“ _Thank you,” he nodded, finishing off a second glass of water, “I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them.”_

_Hopping down from his stool, he headed out of the diner and back across the street to his car. Climbing in, he attempted to start it and cursed softly. It was dead. The radiation in the air must have killed it._

_Rolling his eyes, he turned back for her restaurant and sighed,_

“ _Hey, so funny thing happened--”_

_He paused. The building, the entire building was gone._

“ _Okay,” he frowned, shaking his head, “Guess I'll just leg it.”_

 

_**It was like every bone in my body was pulling me in one direction. Toward this old post office, and this beat up mailbox. And that's where I found her.** _

 

_“Excuse me?”_

_The girl turned around, eyes widening as she looked at him. He frowned, shaking his head,_

“ _I'm lost...can you help me?”_

_The girl smiled and walked over to meet him. Reaching up to touch his face, she burst into tears as she smiled._

_He frowned as she pushed and pulled at his cheeks, raising an eyebrow,  
“Wait...do I know you?”_

_She nodded vigorously,_

“ _You're not lost, anymore...”_

_The post office door opened then, and out stepped a man in a green vest with sandy, blonde hair,_

“ _Girl, who is it?”_

_Upon seeing him, the man froze stock still. He inched slowly over to them, still gaping in shock._

“ _Party Poison...?” the man breathed, grabbing him by the shoulders._

_Glancing back and forth between them, the man and the girl, a light suddenly clicked on in his brain, dim as it might be and he looked him in the eye,_

“ _Cherri-Cola.”_

 

~ø~

 

“They helped me piece my broken life back together, while building one of their own,” he smiled, “Which I admit, was weird at first, but it was good to see her happy, so I didn't protest.”

Clara licked her lips as he rolled back over to her, shaking her head,

“That's insane...”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed.

“This explains how you knew everything, then,” the Doctor smirked, narrowing his eyes, “How you knew who I was when you saw me with this face.”

“Yeah, yeah,” D grinned, tipping an imaginary hat to him, “You were right, as usual. Give yourself a gold star.”

“So, then,” Clara smiled, eyes lit up as she knelt down in front of him again and patted his knee, “You never answered me before. Where are the boys? Where's Girl? Why aren't you with her?”

His face fell and he sighed deeply,

“Gone. After that day...the day we all died...I never saw Kobra Kid, Jet Star, or Fun Ghoul, again. I imagine that...the only person the Director brought back to life was me. Suppose she still wanted to punish me for leaving her in 1946.”

Clara swallowed hard, taking his hand and squeezing tight,

“And Girl?”

 

~ø~

 

_“I should have gone with them,” Cola sobbed, shaking his head as he climbed out of the van and collapsed to the dirt. He buried his face in his hands,_

“ _Maybe then they'd still be here!”_

_Watching the young man break down like that touched him deeply. Reaching out, he put a hand on Cola's back and shook his head,_

“ _There was nothing you could have done for them. You would have just wound up dead.”_

_A rustling from behind him turned his head, eyes widening as Girl, still the tender age of 6 at this point, climbed out of the van and darted off into the desert, wailing uncontrollably._

 

~ø~

 

“I imagine she's out there somewhere,” he said, “She ran off into the sunset after we died. I haven't seen her in, oh...12 years, now.”

Clara shook her head, glancing back at the Doctor briefly,

“But...I thought you just said...she and Cherri-Cola. They helped you get your memories back.”

“He did, Clara,” the Doctor said, pulling out the sonic as he stepped toward the man, “He did say that.”

Waving the screwdriver over D's head, he took a look at it and frowned,

“Time energy...approximately 18 years worth. I suppose your death caused a reset. Gave you a blank slate.”

“You're the expert here, _Doctor,_ ” D smiled, shaking his head, “Not me. But I'll tell you, what, I didn't see those angels again for a long time. Not until Sweet Pea had her baby.”

“Her baby?” Clara said with a smile, “Girl had a baby?”

“She did,” D nodded, “Yeah.”

 

~ø~

 

_**She and Cherri-Cola were headed out that evening. Some kind of benefit for the kids in the Zones. I don't really remember. I was supposed to watch the kid, which was fine. I like kids. Well, she went to check on the boy before leaving. Cola was already out the door. And then, she screamed. So, I ran upstairs to make sure she was okay.** _

 

_The angel stood poised over the crib, smile on it's face as it pointed straight at him. He grabbed the yellow mask hanging from the mobile and cursed softly as he heard the sound of grinding gravel behind him._

 

_**I don't exactly know how they found me. But Girl and her baby were gone, and I knew I had to do something.** _

 

~ø~

 

“So, I put on that mask, and I let them take me. It was the only thing that made sense, and it wasn't like I was gonna get out of there, anyway. They'd blocked off the doors.”

“Where did they send you?” Clara swallowed hard, looking at him sadly.

“Not where I thought they would,” he said, frowning thoughtfully.

 

~ø~

 

__"I think he's waking up!"_ _

_He groaned as he opened his eyes. The room was foggy and he could barely see. He tried to move, but was unable to. He froze. In fact, he couldn't feel anything from the waist down. He remembered the flash of light. The angel must've dropped him on a hidden mine._

 

_**They dropped me off smack dab in the middle of the Analog Wars.**_

 

_Starting to panic, he tried to pull himself up, but a voice soon rang out,_

_"Don't move, jackass. You'll only hurt yourself worse."_

_He glanced beside him, his vision becoming clearer by the second. Sitting at his bedside was a young woman with dark hair and doe brown eyes. She offered him a smile,_

_"The doctors said you wouldn't last the night. You proved them wrong, huh? Guess we should call you_ __**Dr. Death Defying** _ _ _."_

_His eyes widened at the sight of her face. He couldn't believe it. She looked exactly like,_

_"_ __Clara_ _ _...?"_

_To this the woman snorted, shaking her head,_

_"Sorry, who?"_

_He swallowed hard. Her voice sounded different. Her accent was missing._

_She held out a hand to him, her dimples showing prominently as her lips turned up into a smile,_

_"Name's OsWin. OsWin Oswald. But you can call me '_ __The Operator'_ _ _."_

 

~ø~

 

“How old are you, now?” the Doctor breathed, glancing back down at the screwdriver.

D shrugged, leaning back as he thought about it,

“You know, I'm not actually sure...I lost count somewhere...between 43 and 65. I'm leaning toward the former.”

“You _look_ like the latter,” the Doctor snorted.

“Did I even _ask_ you?” D shot back, eyes narrowed as he snarled.

They paused their bantering as Clara's soft giggling filled the air and D looked at her with a frown,

“What? What is it?”

She shook her head, still laughing as tears filled her eyes,

“You.”

Raising up, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him again, whispering softly into his ear,

“I'm glad you're alive...”

He sighed deeply, squeezing her tight as he glanced up at the Doctor again,

“That makes one of us.”

 

~ø~

 

_He watched as Party Poison paced the lot, rubbing his temples frantically. The four boys beaten and bruised after a skirmish that had gotten out of hand. Korse had taken Girl back to Battery City, and they'd come back to the Diner in defeat. He could see the fear in Poison's eye, that look of knowing what he would have to do to get her back, and knowing that such a thing would cost him the lives of those around him, including his own._

_Except it hadn't, but Poison had yet to find that out. And there was no way he could tell him._

“ _You can't be serious,” Cherri-Cola protested, shaking his head, “Storm the building? That's suicide, Poison!”_

“ _They'll be expecting us to go in disguised,” Poison said softly, gazing at the ground, “They wouldn't expect us to go in guns blazing. No one expects that. We'll take 'em by surprise.”_

_Cherri-Cola snorted at that,_

“ _Do you hear yourself? You're talking crazy!! Look, I know you love that little girl, Poison, but she is gone! There's no getting her back! Not unless you plan to die doing it!”_

_Poison raised his gaze and shook his head, sighing deeply,_

“ _I'm getting her back, Cola. This could be the last of all the rides we take, but I am getting her back, one way or another. None of you have to follow me, but I am going, and no one is stopping me.”_

_Kobra Kid stepped up beside him, as did Fun Ghoul and Jet Star,_

“ _So, are we,” he said._

_He could see the pained smile on Poison's face as he looked to the other three, how he was seconds from breaking down. He remembered how it felt looking at them, knowing they were going to die, and that after that night, he would never see them again._

 

 

_**Have you ever had to relive a moment, Doctor? I mean actually stand in that place, again, but in also removed, living a separate life? I walked into that building, gun blazing and fully prepared to die, while at the same time, I sat all comfy in my wheelchair out here in the Zones, knowing damn well where he would end up.** _

_**It was surreal.** _

 

_The tires squealed as the van pulled up outside the building. Opening the side door, he could see the Trans Am parked a few feet away. There were lasers splashing around inside, indicative of the death disco currently going down. Moments later, he spotted them at the door, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Girl. Fun Ghoul let them out first, then shut the door behind them, closing himself inside. He whirled around, firing back at the Dracs before being gunned down himself._

_Meanwhile, he watched Jet Star run for straight for them, Girl in the lead. He whirled around to fire back a few rounds, but was struck square in the chest. He landed on the hood of the car, lifeless. Girl ran straight for them and tossing his cane to the street, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her in.. He took one last look at the carnage before Show Pony climbed back inside the van, shutting the door and blocking his view._

 

_**I have so many of those, now. Memories where I was two places at once, and I couldn't even warn him. I couldn't warn anyone. I had to sit back and watch it all happen, again.** _

 

~ø~

 

“I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy,” D sighed.

The Doctor nodded, bowing his head solemnly,

“Neither would I. But you did try, didn't you?”

“Try what?” D shook his head, raising an eyebrow.

“To warn them,” the Doctor said, “In the guise of your broadcasts. Framed them with _'a little bird told me'_ or _'word in the Zones'_...and the people listened. Well, some of them, not all, but that's the trouble with 'a rumour'. Not everyone believes you. But you tried your best, didn't you? You should be proud of that.”

The DJ grinned at that and shook his head,

“Really? And here I was sure you'd tear me a new asshole.”

“Oh, you'd like _that,_ wouldn't you?”

D let out a laugh that echoed throughout the Diner and the Doctor smiled.

With a sigh, D wheeled the chair passed Clara and over to him, raising a hand,

“Thanks, Doc.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and took his hand, shaking it cautiously,

“For what, Michael?”

“For making me laugh.”

 

~ø~

 

As they headed back to the TARDIS, Dr. Death Defying followed after them, chair whirring softly.

“So, where are you headed, now?”

“Oh, I don't know,” the Doctor said, shaking his head with a sigh, “Clara mentioned something about skiing. Where was it that you said you wanted to go?”

She shook her head,

“Nowhere.”

The Doctor whirled around, eyes wide,

“What did you say?”

She knelt down in front of D again, gazing up into his eyes with a smile,

“What if I stayed here, Doctor? What if I stayed here with him?”

“Clara--”

“I already lost one man I cared about,” she breathed, shaking her head, “Because I didn't follow my heart. I didn't listen.”

She squeezed his hands and smiled with a shrug, tears in her eyes,

“I'm listening, now, _Party Poison_. I'm all ears. What were you gonna say, back then? What were you gonna tell me?”

D bowed his head and squeezed her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed it softly, and offered her a smile,

“Keep running.”

She swallowed hard, blinking furiously as she stumbled over words to protest,

“B-But--”

“I'm an old man, now, Girly,” he laughed, “Look at me. The gas in this hot rod got guzzled up a long time ago. I'm running on E. But you?”

He patted her hand gently,

“You've still got a full tank. So, go. Get a move on. Hit the red line...and get the hell out my desert.”

They both laughed and Clara wiped her eyes. Rising up, she leaned in close, pulling him into one final hug,

“I wish things had been different,” she whispered to him, sniffling softly.

“I don't,” he said.

She gave him a soft peck on the cheek before pulling away, and stepped back, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear,

“Take care of yourself, _Party Poison_.”

He nodded thoughtfully,

“Call me _Michael_.”

She smirked and shook her head,

“That's not your name.”

Grinning, he turned his attention to the Doctor, he cleared his throat,

“See you around, _Doc Brown._ ”

The Doctor smiled in return as he opened the door to the TARDIS and let Clara in first. She shot him one last look before trudging inside, disappearing from sight.

Turning back then, he nodded, and for a moment, D could swear there were tears in his eyes.

“Goodbye,” he finally said, “ _Marty McFly._ ”

He then stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

D wheeled back as the TARDIS began to fade, that familiar whooshing sound meeting his ears. The dust kicked up, swirling in a cloud around the box, faster and faster, until finally it vanished from his sight.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he nodded to himself and smiled.

 

~ø~

 

As the TARDIS whizzed and whirled through the Time Vortex, the Doctor let out a sigh, and wandered up the stairs to his blackboard,

“Ah, yes... I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what,” Clara asked, yawning loudly as she climbed up the stairs after him. She sounded exhausted.

He shook his head, pondering over the equations on his board for a moment,

“Oh, this. I was just trying to figure something out.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Ah, nothing really just,” the Doctor nodded to the board, “A silly little quandary, you know. What sparked the Big Bang, created the Universe, and all life in it? Was it anything special at all, or was it just something to do on a Tuesday night? Things like that...”

Clara shook her head and narrowed her eyes at it,

“Oh, well, there's your problem. You're askin' the wrong question.”

He raised an eyebrow,

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, swallowing hard, “You shouldn't be asking what or who or how. You shouldn't even be asking why.”

The Doctor straightened, cocking his head at her inquisitively,

“No? Then, pre-tell, Miss Oswald, what should I be asking?”

She looked at the board, heaving a heavy sigh as she rubbed her arms lightly,

“Are you happy that it happened?”

He paused a moment to think about it quietly, listening to the TARDIS hum softly in his ears. Finally, he smiled,

“Why...yes. I think so.”

Looking to her, he raised an eyebrow,

“Are you?”

Turning to him, she nodded, laughing softly,

“Yeah. I really am.”

Spinning on her heel, she trotted back down the stairs, and glanced up at him, grabbing the lever,

“Let's go then, shall we? Let's keep running.”

She pulled the it down and the TARDIS sped onward and away, down the Vortex and straight toward their next big adventure.

 


	23. Epilogue

The Long Way Round

 

The wind howled outside the station, singing a lonely song as it swept across the dusty sands of Zone 6.

The old DJ wasn't expecting any visitors that night, but then again, he'd come to expect the unexpected over recent years. It had become, for lack of a better phrase, all too expected.

There he sat at his microphone, mentally preparing himself for his next broadcast. He mulled over what he would say, what tones he would use. It was a practice that had only become common as the years dragged by, as old age crept in and stole his mind from him for a third time.

Sixty-seven wasn't _that_ old, though, or so he thought, but it was old enough, and he dreaded to think of what the coming years would bring him. Sighing, he reached down and rummaged through the bottom drawer of his desk. He grabbed a small box from inside and set it down on his desk. Dumping the contents out into his hand, he smiled at the tarnished, turquoise rosary that had spilled into his palm. He took and wrapped it around his wrist, smiling as he thumbed his fingers over the engraving on the back of the cross.

_'Beverly Ann Spence,'_ it read.

He sighed. The memory of her was still blank, just an inkling, nothing more. He knew it was something wonderful, that it was love, or something like it, but there was nothing tangible to confirm it.

Why, if he'd been married to this woman, wouldn't he have a ring, something to prove it? He leaned back in his chair, and sat there quietly, just gazing at the cross as he dwelled on her name. It sounded familiar. So very familiar.

A creaking from behind him drew his attention, and he turned around, raising an eyebrow curiously as he spotted a young woman with wild, blonde hair and sand-ridden clothes standing at his door.

“Hello?”

“ _Hello,”_ she said, shooting him a toothy grin.

Glancing around, he shook his head,

“Can I help you?”

_“Not really,”_ she replied, folding her arms as she walked toward him,  _“I just came by to see you.”_

“And you are?”

“ _No one. Just a lone wolf,”_ she smiled, taking a seat on his desk. She giggled as he gazed up at her, seeing the confusion on his face,

“ _You don't remember me, do you?”_

He shook his head,

“'Fraid not. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. I'm getting ready to put her to bed,” he patted the radio, shooting the woman a grin, “And she doesn't like having others in the room when I tuck her in.”

_“Well, that's okay. I won't be staying long,”_ she said with a shrug, _“Neither will you, actually.”_

Dr. Death Defying straightened at that, eyebrow peaking as he leaned back in the chair,

“Oh? And where exactly will I be going?”

The blonde woman smiled,

“ _Home.”_

Before he could even respond to her odd statement, his door burst wide open and in stepped a young man with fiery-red hair and a mean disposition. His face was obscured by a blue mask, red 'X' across the middle.

“Found you, old man,” the boy growled, “Your days as BLI's spy are over.”

“You must be Val Velocity” D raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, and glanced back over at his desk. The woman had vanished, “I've heard a lot about you.”

“I'm sure you have,” Val said, shaking his head, “From all your friends at BLI. I bet they're all waiting on the edge of their seats for your next little broadcast, aren't they?”

Eyeing the gun at the lad's side, he swallowed hard and reached behind him,

“I have no idea what you're talking about....but I suggest you think this through carefully, before you do something we both regret.”

He pulled out an ancient-issue ray gun, still white from his days at the corporation. He'd never gotten the chance to paint it over.

Val spotted it and sneered,

“See? I knew it. You're working for them--”

“ _Worked_ ,” he snorted, “There's such a thing as past tense, you know.”

“Work for them once and you never really stop,” Val shot back, shaking his head, “Isn't that right, _spy_?”

“You keep saying that,” the DJ sighed, “Makes me think you haven't heard a damn word I've said.”

“I know better than to listen to a spy.”

“I'm _not_ a spy--!”

“Then, how is it that you know _everything_ that's going on, exactly when it's happening!?”

“Why, a little birdy told me,” D said with a smirk, “Not that it's any of your business.”

“And _you_ told _BLI_ ,” Val spat, gun arm trembling, “That's how they found us at the Nest the other night.

Growling softly, Val scratched his head and took aim at the old DJ,

“Get up.”

“Now, _that_ would be a trick.”

Val rolled his eyes,

“You expect me to believe you _really_ lost your legs in the Analog Wars?”

“Well, the wheels ain't just for _decoration_ ,” D snorted, patting the arm as he shook his head, “If they were, she'd be decked out like the _Iron Throne_ \--”

“Get. Up. _Now_ ,” Val seethed again, “I won't tell you, again!”

Clicking his jaw, D sighed and grabbed the arms of his chair. He sighed, rising slowly to shaky feet. This wouldn't work for long. He wouldn't be able to keep his balance on those rickety bones.

“The devil's got your number, tonight, spy,” Val sneered, smirking as he readied his trigger finger, “Hope you're ready.”

Dr. Death Defying smiled, straightening his back as he took a deep breath,

“Oh, you have no idea.”

They stared at each other for a long minute. Taking aim, they pulled their triggers and fired.

The room lit up in a quick burst of colourful light....

 

~ø~

 

When it faded, he found himself in a very different place. He looked around. Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting a golden light on the dilapidated booths and busted floor tiles of what appeared to be an old diner. Glancing behind him, he spotted the bright orange mannequin stood behind the bar, and grinned.

“ _Yo, Poison!”_

Eyes wide, he shook his head and slowly walked to the door. Pushing them open, he stepped out into the dusty parking lot, spotting a graffitied Trans Am sitting by the road.

Three men stood around it, each one dressed in their own signature look. Kobra Kid, standing on the passenger side, pounded his hand on the roof and shrugged,

“You comin' or what?”

He frowned, looking down at himself quickly. He was truly dense to have just now realised he was walking, and on his own two feet, no less. No aid of a cane, no use of a chair.

His clothes were different, as well. His dusty, leather vest and black pants were gone, replaced by grey jeans covered in sand and dirt stains, and a jacket of worn, navy pleather, bearing a logo that read 'Dead Pegasus'.

His hair flew in front of his face as a strong breeze blew by, strands of neon reds and oranges dancing in the air. Reaching up, he touched his face. His beard and moustache were gone, and the skin was smooth again, not weathered down by age. He looked to the car again, smiled at the three of them and started forward,

“Where we goin'?”

“Home, jackass,” Fun Ghoul smirked, slapping him in the arm as he stepped up to the car, “What were you doin' in there, anyway?”

“Yeah, it's getting' hot out here,” Jet Star said, voice echoing against the steel of his astronaut helmet. He flipped up the visor and shrugged, “Thought for a minute you weren't comin'.”

“Here,” Kid said, tossing him the keys. He caught them in one hand, and squeezed them tight,

“How long have you guys been waiting out here for me?”

“Not as long as _she_ has,” Fun Ghoul sighed, nodding down the road a ways.

Frowning, he turned and looked up the road, eyes wide. A young woman stood there, her baby blue dress battering in the dusty winds. She smiled at him, her doe brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. He squeezed the rosary around his wrist and swallowed hard. His feet began to move of their own accord, a sensation he hadn't had the privilege of feeling in 18 years.

He walked out to meet her, eyeing her curiously as he approached.

“You were right,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as he came to a stop, “Matt Damon is a _phenomenal_ actor.”

He reached for her face, fingers tracing her cheek. A laugh escaped him as he choked back a sob, and he shook his head,

“Bev...”

With a warm smile, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight,

“C'mon,” she began, leading him back to the car, “It's time to go home.”

Nodding, he opened the door and sat down behind the wheel, then pulled her in onto his lap. She reached over and shut the door behind him, laced her arms around his neck and settled in close. With a grin, he started the car, and looked at her, then back at the boys. Nodding to Kobra Kid, he started the car, and revved the engine. Squeezing the wheel tight, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car squealed into action, zipping down the Getaway Mile and toward the everlasting sunset. Along the way, they passed a sign.

 

_**LOS ANGELES – 12 MILES.** _

 

_**END** _

_**12/31/15** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I couldn't leave without an Epilogue!  
> Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have!  
> It's been fun and if it weren't for your encouragement, I might not have finished these bad boys at all!  
> I really appreciate all your support. Take care!
> 
> And keep running. 
> 
> -ZTX (clashing-plaids.tumblr.com)


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